


To Ashes

by grayseeker



Series: Love After Death [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Afterlife, All Sparks are Equally Immortal, Allspark, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Spirit World, Supernatural Elements, Transformers: The Movie (1986), Trine Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayseeker/pseuds/grayseeker
Summary: Within moments of laying claim to the one thing he's always wanted, Starscream's coronation is cut short by an assassination attempt. Now everyone he meets keeps telling him he's dead, which is clearly impossible. If he was dead, he'd know about it—wouldn't he? But when he finds himself trapped in the Decepticon Crypt he must come to terms with his own mortality, or risk the one thing he never imagined himself capable of losing.
Relationships: Skyfire/Starscream (Transformers), Skywarp/Thundercracker (Transformers)
Series: Love After Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863013
Comments: 184
Kudos: 105
Collections: Tales From the DeceptiCrypt





	1. Ascension

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks—and much virtual chocolate!—to my two wonderful alpha readers, [Dark Star of Chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDecepticon/pseuds/Dark%20Star%20Of%20Chaos) and [Sphinx01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sphinx01/pseuds/sphinx01) and my intrepid editor, [Biting_Moopie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/biting_moopie/pseuds/biting_moopie). You were all just amazing, tirelessly reading over multiple drafts of this work as it evolved, and offering wise suggestions along the way. The story would not be what it is without your input, patience and thoughtful commentary. Thank you all so much!

"Conquest is made of the ashes of one's enemies."

~ Starscream's bio

* * *

_It is the year 2005. The Decepticons have rebuilt Cybertron from the ashes of war, while the Autobots make plans to re-take the planet from secret staging grounds on two of its moons. Meanwhile, a new and terrifying menace approaches from deep space. Only two individuals—one Autobot, and one Decepticon—are aware of its approach, and must unite the factions in order to stop it before time runs out._

* * *

Steps ringing with purpose, Starscream strode across the bridge that led to the fabled Hall of Heroes. A hush fell over the crowd as the awed gaze of every Decepticon settled on him.

As well they should. 

Starscream paused at the Hall's entrance, letting the crowd—and the cameras—get a good look. He knew he cut an imposing figure. His frame was polished from helm to pede, and his coronation cloak, fashioned from rich purple steelsilk, swirled sensuously around his calves when stirred by a breath of wind.

Ahead of him, the Hall was resplendent. Violet flames had been kindled in the bases of the giant statues of former Decepticon leaders and the air crackled with electrical arcs, symbolic of scientific achievement. The podium, situated at the Hall's apex, was a masterpiece. It was shaped like the crown he'd soon wear, and adorned with a single Decepticon insignia. A golden one, symbolic of a new beginning. A new Golden Age, under Decepticon rule. 

Under _his_ rule.

Starscream suppressed a smile. As he strode forward, he did a quick mental check of his subspace. Yes, the phase-shifter was still there, its unseen presence anchoring him. He was ready for this. Had been his whole life, and now he was about to lead the Decepticons to true glory. 

Trumpets blared in fanfare as he approached the podium. This was the moment he'd dreamed of, and he could see them all so clearly. Thundercracker and Skywarp would be standing tall on either side of the podium, wings high as they radiated pride that their Trinemate was now leader. 

Megatron would be there, too. Starscream had never been able to decide if he'd prefer him with his head bowed in grudging acceptance of his defeat, or with his hand extended in congratulations, with perhaps a hint of admiration lurking behind his gaze as he welcomed Starscream to the summit, ready to proclaim his ascendancy.

And then there was Skyfire. He'd be at the center of it all with the crown in his hands and his optics alight, a small, tender smile playing around his mouth. _I see it now,_ that smile seemed to say. _I understand why you did the things you did, and I'm with you._

The vision was so perfect that Starscream couldn't help returning that smile as he lifted his gaze to the summit, where his coronation party awaited him. But that was where the illusion fell apart.

The two Seekers standing guard at the summit were very much _not_ Thundercracker or Skywarp. Instead, Starscream had borrowed Thrust and Ramjet from Dirge's Trine in order to give the counterfeit appearance of being flanked by stalwart trinemates.

The towering figure between Thrust and Ramjet looked even more out of place. He was… well. He was Astrotrain. A poor substitute, at best, for either of the people Starscream would have wanted as his Crown Bearer. He'd known this was coming, but he hadn't expected it to feel this wrong. Hadn't imagined how ludicrous his crown would look cupped in Astrotrain's large, ungainly hands. Astrotrain stared at him, his mouth silently working, and Starscream stifled a wave of... annoyance.

Yes. Annoyance. It _was_ annoyance. Not loneliness, nor desolation, and certainly not _regret._ He'd buried all of that yesterday, during the interment ceremony. Or what had passed for one, considering that the bodies of Megatron, Starscream's Trine, and the other fallen warriors had never been found.

 _Well?_ he mouthed impatiently at Astrotrain, who should have introduced him by now.

Astrotrain ran his glossa over his lips, darting a nervous glance at the cameras. Starscream gave an inward sigh and spun to face the crowd. He paused, giving his cloak a chance to settle—he really did love the cloak—and waited until every gaze was upon him.

"Fellow Decepticons!" he began, combining his own lines with those which Astrotrain was supposed to have said. "Megatron has fallen, but fear not! For I, Starscream, shall now ascend to take his place."

The crowd cheered. The Constructicons raised their trumpets, supplying another round of fanfare and Starscream, relieved that his improvisation had worked, turned to mount the steps. He froze, one foot off the ground, as his spark gave an odd little flutter.

Damn. Did it have to be _now?_

In spite of his better judgment, he reached along the bond. Not vigorously enough for his presence to be noted, but enough to confirm that Skyfire was, indeed, safe. And far away, which was good. If Cybertron was next on the Incursion's menu, as Starscream suspected, it would be preferable if one of the two people who knew about it was not directly in its path.

Reassured, Starscream pushed the contact aside and resumed his upward march. The pulse returned. Sharper this time, almost painful. Starscream glanced up, half expecting to see a formless menace blocking out the stars, but the sky was clear. The stars shone down, bright and serene, as if assuring him that he still had time.

As he reached the top of the steps, Astrotrain hurried to meet him. "Uh, Screamer," he mumbled, his words thankfully muted by another peal of fanfare. "Think I mighta forgotten my—"

"I can see that," Starscream cut in. "And that's _Lord_ Starscream to you, thanks ever so much."

"Y-yeah, okay. Anyway. Can you maybe give me some hints?"

"That _was_ a hint. Repeat after me, and do your best not to sound like a nitwit."

Astrotrain responded with a hesitant nod, and Starscream proceeded to coach him through the formalities. Which had, by now, made a complete departure from the dignified ascension Starscream had envisioned. Astrotrain stumbled through his lines with all the panache of a sedated electro-toad while the Constructicons, who were nothing if not fully committed to their task, interrupted every few astroseconds with another round of fanfare. This was particularly unfortunate, since Astrotrain froze like a turbofox in a hunter's spotlight whenever the trumpets blared.

"Get on with the ceremony!" Starscream eventually shouted, losing all patience with the proceedings. 

Astrotrain finally raised the crown but the Constructicons, with a truly uncanny sense of timing, resumed their bleating. Dignity be damned. Starscream raised a rifle and, with a single blast, sheared the ends off the Constructicons' trumpets. The fanfare died an unceremonious death, and the crown, now unimpeded, came to rest atop Starscream's helm.

Its weight surprised him. He'd tried it on, of course, but it felt different now. Perhaps because it mattered. Starscream straightened under the unexpected burden, raising his chin as his gaze swept across the crowd. His spark had gone quiet and he wondered: was Skyfire watching? Could he see him? Would he be among the first to hear what Starscream was about to say? 

"My fellow Decepticons!" he began, sweeping his arm in a gesture that encompassed not only his current surroundings but also the stars, the arc of the horizon and the whole grand tapestry of Cybertronian history. "As your new leader, I—"

A blaze of light appeared in the sky. Starscream reeled back, staring at it. Was it a meteor? A comet? Was it… too late? Had the Incursion come upon them already? But no. When the light resolved, it solidified not into a planet-gobbling monster, but a ship. A sleek, purple space cruiser that dove at the crowd, engines roaring with ground-shaking power. The Decepticons scattered, shouting in panic, and Starscream clenched his fists. 

"Who disrupts my coronation?" he snarled, glaring at the unknown intruder.

The ship's cockpit popped open, and a figure leaped from within. He was… a stranger, yes, but strangely familiar. Starscream knew he'd never seen this mech before in his life, and yet—

"Coronation, Starscream?" The intruder spat his name like a curse. "This is bad comedy!" 

"Megatron!" Starscream exclaimed as he leaned forward, peering at the mech. The intruder looked nothing like Megatron; nothing at all. He was purple and gray, not silver. His chest was deeper than Megatron's, barrel-shaped rather than rectangular, and his helm, rather than being flat on top, bore a triple crest, almost like a built-in crown. Yet that face; those optics. They were unmistakable.

"Is that _you?"_ Starscream asked, shocked by his own relief. No wonder Megatron's body hadn't been found. There'd been nothing to find, because he wasn't dead. And if Megatron lived, perhaps the others did too. Perhaps Starscream hadn't killed them after all, and everything was going to be— 

The intruder transformed.

He was a gun-mech, just like Megatron, and it took an astrosecond longer than it should have for Starscream to register that the cannon was pointing at his spark.

"Here's a hint!" the stranger snarled—and fired.


	2. Final Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those were strafing burns; evidence of a vicious aerial assault. It was all too easy to picture Starscream and his squadron of Seekers pummeling the city with a merciless hail of laserfire. And where had Skyfire been at the time? Halfway across the galaxy, responding to a spurious distress call.

Autobot City was in ruins.

As Skyfire flew closer, the unforgiving light of dawn revealed the full extent of the damage. Great chunks of the outer walls had been sheared away, and it was hard to imagine how any living thing could have survived the attack. Yet when he commed requesting permission to land, he was immediately greeted by a tired-sounding Blaster.

"Come right on in," the Autobot communications officer said. "Sorry 'bout the mess."

Silence followed. Skyfire watched his nav console for landing coordinates. They didn't appear. "Is everything all right?" he finally asked.

"Sure thing; just trying to find you a runway," Blaster replied casually. Too casually? Skyfire couldn't tell. How much information did Blaster have access to? He'd certainly check the flight history of an incoming craft. That was standard security protocol, but Skyfire had nothing to hide there. His call log, on the other hand, was a different matter.

An icy fist clenched around Skyfire's spark as he recalled that up until his last visit, he wouldn't have spoken to Blaster or even commed the control center. He would have directly commed Wheeljack who would have flagged him through; no security questions asked.

"Here ya go," Blaster said finally. "It's kinda dinged up, but you should be okay. Welcome back, Skyfire. It's good hearing your voice."

"Yours too." Skyfire accepted the coordinates with relief, and no small twinge of guilt. Being turned away would have been a disaster, but being trusted was a burden in its own right.

The landing pad Blaster had directed him to was too small for Skyfire to employ landing gear. He landed Seeker-style instead, extending his legs from the belly of his shuttle form and completing his transformation as he settled. He was instantly struck by how quiet everything was. The air was windless and there were no sounds of traffic, either in the sky above or from the nearby highway. Even the birds were quiet.

A shudder crossed his wingspan as he studied the scorch-marks that scarred the pavement beneath his feet. Those were strafing burns; evidence of a vicious aerial assault. It was all too easy to picture Starscream and his squadron of Seekers pummeling the city with a merciless hail of laserfire. And where had Skyfire been at the time? Halfway across the galaxy, responding to a spurious distress call.

The message, purportedly from Elita One, had been sketchy on details, but had left him with the impression that Trion IV, an Autobot colony headed by Elita One, was under attack. He'd rushed to their aid; meanwhile, his friends here on Earth were being slaughtered.

 _You had no right,_ he thought savagely, addressing the presence at the far end of his bond. There was no response. Of course there wasn't. Starscream's end of the bond had been closed off since before the attack, and he still wasn't answering. 

Skyfire balled his fists. If Starscream had taken matters into his own hands, Skyfire could only do the same. He stalked toward the receiving bay doors. They swept open before he could reach them, and Springer emerged into the sunlight. 

They had never spoken, but Skyfire was aware of Springer's reputation as a brash, fearless warrior. He was therefore taken aback when Springer froze mid-step, staring at him.

"Whoa," he said. "If you're lookin' for someone to pound, I'm afraid you're late to the party."

"Party?" It took Skyfire a moment to realize that Springer was referring to the devastation that surrounded them, and that he was staring at Skyfire's fists. Skyfire unclenched them, uncomfortably aware of his own height compared to Springer's. He made a point of not looming over people if he could help it, but had forgotten himself. "I'm here to see Ultra Magnus," he stated. "It's important."

Springer's optics narrowed. "Is he expecting you? Don't know if you've noticed, but we're kinda busy."

Skyfire didn't blame him for being skeptical. The travel manifest Skyfire had provided to Blaster stated that he was ferrying a cargo of medical supplies from Trion IV. Which was true. They were stashed in Skyfire's subspace, and he fully intended to deliver them; but not before he'd delivered his news.

"This can't wait," he said, his gaze instinctively sweeping upward. The sky was clear blue, devoid of any shadow of encroaching terror—but for how long? "Look," Skyfire added in a lower voice, "I know he's in charge. This is a matter that the Autobot leader needs to be aware of."

Springer's mouth dropped open. "You… you heard?"

"I was there with Elita One when Optimus…" Skyfire trailed off, reluctant to say the word. He'd heard of spark-shock, but had never actually witnessed it. The anguish he'd glimpsed on Elita One's proud features would haunt him forever. "I understand this is a bad time," he added, "but this can't wait."

Springer gave him a long look. "'Kay," he said finally. "Follow me."

He stepped into the receiving bay. Skyfire followed, ducking his wings to fit through the door. The room beyond was packed with crates of building materials, medical supplies, and other necessities. Springer led him past these, and along a maze of corridors. 

The air tasted of smoke and chemicals. They had to splash through pools of water and fire-retardant, and in one place, a section of the ceiling had been blasted away. Or… punched away, Skyfire thought, picturing one of Devastator's massive fists coming through the bulkhead. He averted his gaze with a shudder, and kept it focused straight ahead as they passed the mouth of the dark, empty corridor that led to Wheeljack's lab. 

Even though the official casualty list had yet to be released, Skyfire already knew his friend's name would be on it. The grainy transmissions from Earth had shown glimpses of several grayed-out Autobot bodies. Wheeljack's had been among them. Skyfire tried not to wonder who had fired that fatal shot. Tried not to wonder how many names were on the casualty list because of Starscream—and thus, by extension, because of _him._

Springer paused at a set of blast-doors, one of which sagged loose from its housing. "Magnus," he called through the gap. "Skyfire's here to see you. Says it's important."

Skyfire couldn't make out the response but it must have been affirmative, because Springer hit the door control. The intact door slid open, while the damaged one merely shuddered. The resulting opening was big enough for Skyfire to fit through, though only just. 

He was shocked to recognize the room beyond as the city's command center. Not that he'd ever been here, but he'd seen it in news broadcasts. Optimus Prime had given many an address from the low, stage-like platform where Magnus now stood, his gaze pensively focused on the cracked screen of Teletraan II. Most of the room's other equipment had been reduced to charred husks, while the plexsteel dome that had once formed the ceiling had been replaced by a patchwork of tarps.

"Ultra Magnus?" Skyfire ventured, when his host made no move to acknowledge his presence.

The white-and-blue Convoy mech, who looked so much like Optimus in terms of his build, visibly gathered himself before turning. "Skyfire," he said, inclining his head in a stiff nod. "It's good to see you safe. What can I do for you?"

Magnus' tone conveyed only vague recognition. Skyfire wasn't surprised, since they'd never interacted. He reached in his subspace and drew out the data-disk he'd prepared for this meeting. "If I may?" he asked, nodding toward Teletraan II.

Magnus waved him toward the large console. "It's functional," he said. The screen was split into a dozen sectors. Each displayed a different area of the city where work crews, Autobot and human alike, were laboring to repair the damage. Skyfire slipped the data-disk into a corresponding receptacle. Lights flashed on the supercomputer's control panel, and the screen resolved into a single, arresting image.

Behind Skyfire, Ultra Magnus sucked in a sharp ventilation. "What am I looking at?"

"It looks like a kid's drawing," Springer remarked.

Skyfire tensed. He'd assumed, or at least hoped, that his audience with Ultra Magnus would be private. He hadn't noticed Springer following him into the room, and the sound of his voice startled him. 

"It is," he replied, trying not to sound dismayed. "It was drawn by the only known survivor of a phenomenon I'm calling the Incursion. She was discovered drifting in space after the destruction of her homeworld, Lithone. She hasn't spoken a word since, but I believe this to be her eyewitness testimony."

Ultra Magnus stepped toward the screen. "Is that a planet?" he asked, nodding toward the bulbous orange shape that dominated the image.

"Nah," Springer interjected, moving to stand at Magnus' side. "It's got teeth." He glanced at Skyfire. _"Are_ those teeth?"

"We—" Skyfire stopped himself. "I don't know," he amended, wishing for the thousandth time that he didn't have to do this alone. "Whatever it is, it's eating planets."

"You're kidding," Springer said, his tone flat.

"I wish I was," Skyfire replied, switching to a view of the galaxy. A series of flags sprang up, each representing a vanished world. "The Incursion has been eating its way through the galaxy. Lithone," he said, pointing to the nearest flag, "appears to be its latest victim."

"It's heading toward Cybertron," Ultra Magnus said.

"And since the Incursion appears to prey on Cybertronian-inhabited worlds," Skyfire added, "Earth might also be in danger."

Magnus and Springer exchanged worried glances. So far, so good, Skyfire thought. His teaching experience was ample preparation for explaining the science. It was the next part—the political aspect—that he wasn't sure about.

"We have to act fast," Springer said decisively, before Skyfire could begin. "We've gotta attack that thing before it gets us; hit it with everything we've got." He slammed his fist into his palm, then glanced at Ultra Magnus. "Right?"

Ultra Magnus was frowning. "We don't have the firepower," he said with a slow shake of his head. "We're talking about a thing that destroys entire planets, after all. And even if we did, we'd be leaving ourselves—and Earth—vulnerable to another attack by the Decepticons."

Springer made a rude noise. "We kicked those losers off this planet but good! Unless Megatron's gotten control back from Star-creep, we oughta be fine."

"Star…scream?" Skyfire glanced between the two mechs, searching for confirmation. Was Starscream in charge of the Decepticons? Hope bloomed in his chest. Maybe he wasn't alone in this after all. "I would like to propose an alternative solution," he said.

"We're listening," Magnus replied, as he and Springer turned expectant gazes on him.

Skyfire cleared his vocalizer. "We need to make peace," he said, reaching for the inert bond in search of reassurance. "Talk to the Decepticons. Find common ground, and—"

"Common _ground?"_ Springer bristled. "I don't know if you've noticed, but they just flattened our city! Do you have any idea how many good people died? How many _friends?_ Optimus Prime himself is—"

"I understand," Skyfire cut in, "but we're dealing with a thing that eats planets, and we need all the help we can get."

"No!" Springer clenched his fists so hard his frame shook. "No. Fragging. Way. We are _not_ making nice with those scumbags! Not after what they've done."

"The Decepticons control Cybertron and its defense systems," Skyfire pointed out. "They're seasoned warriors with both tactical and scientific know-how. They're—"

"I've got a better idea," Springer snapped, whirling on Magnus. "Megatron's out, far as we know. That means the 'Cons have a leadership vacuum. I say we strike. Hit the bums with everything we've got, toss 'em off Cybertron, and then we'll have everything we need to fight this… whatever it is."

Skyfire tensed. "But—"

Ultra Magnus held up his hands, motioning for silence. "Thank you, Skyfire," he said. "You've done the Autobots a tremendous service by bringing this to our attention, but we'll take it from here."

Dismissal was clear in his tone, and Skyfire's spark sank. Had he made things worse? If political matters were beyond him, _military_ ones might as well reside in some far-off galaxy. He reached for the bond again, aching for Starscream's familiar presence. "Please," was all he could think to say. "This is our chance to end the war. We need—"

The bond exploded into white-hot, searing anguish. It felt as if a bomb had detonated in his spark-chamber. He stumbled back a step, clawing at his chest. A hand gripped his arm.

"What's wrong?" Ultra Magnus' tone was urgent. "Are you ill, Skyfire? Injured?"

Skyfire couldn't speak. His legs buckled, the floor rushing to meet him. 

"Send for a medic!" Ultra Magnus shouted, crashing to his knees beside him. "Skyfire, what is it? What's happening?"

"On… on fire," Skyfire managed to gasp. "It's… it's…" His hands curled beneath him, cradling the source of the pain. Where was it coming from? _Oh,_ he thought in sudden, awful realization. _No… oh no._

It couldn't be—

"No, please."

The stench of hot metal swamped his vents. There was a dull roar like flames, like stones grinding together, and pain so exquisite it felt like orgasm. In the midst of it all was a voice. A beloved voice, locked in an agonized shriek of bewildered terror. 

And then nothing.

The pain evaporated as swiftly as it had come. Skyfire slumped to the floor. He could hear the sound of voices, of running footsteps, but they seemed infinitely far away. Irrelevant. He drew his legs to his chest, curling around the black emptiness in his spark. That was the only thing that felt real. _Let it not be him,_ he silently prayed, entreating the god he'd never believed in. _Not him. Please…_

His world dissolved in a burning haze.


	3. Storm Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A maelstrom had ripped through him, searing every circuit. There'd been pain, or what he'd thought was pain. Now, he was falling in slow motion. Sparks—or were they stars?—floated past, swirling on random air currents, and a voice was calling his name.

Starscream stumbled.

At least it felt that way. His legs went out from under him and he pitched forward, fingers clawing the air.

Moments earlier, he'd been bathed in violet flame. A maelstrom had ripped through him, searing every circuit while damage reports piled across his HUD. There'd been pain, or what he'd thought was pain. There must have been pain, given the extent of the damage, but it had seemed strangely distant, like something happening in a neighboring universe.

Now, he felt nothing.

Everything was silent. He was falling in slow motion. Sparks—or were they stars?—floated past, swirling on random air currents, and a voice was calling his name. A voice he thought he should recognize. Skyfire? Skyfire! What was _he_ doing here?

Starscream lunged forward in panic, rifles priming with a sharp, familiar whine as he… landed. He wasn't falling at all. As the darkness bled away, sparks fading, he found himself back atop his podium.

 _Alone,_ he noted, with a stab of annoyance. His so-called coronation party had apparently booked it the moment the intruder had shown up. Starscream would deal with them later. He scanned the crowd. They were staring up at him, expressions frozen, and Starscream could make out every detail of every face. No; Skyfire was not among them. Starscream _had_ seen to that. Good.

"How dare you!" he snarled, taking aim at the intruder. "Who do you think you are, barging into the middle of my—"

Starscream broke off, gaze suddenly transfixed on the sole moving object in the entire place. His crown. It must have slipped from his head when he'd stumbled, and he'd been too distracted with… everything else… to notice.

Now it was bouncing down the steps very, very slowly, as if time was running at half speed. Everything was unnaturally sharp and bright. Starscream saw every glint of every star reflected in the crown's polished surface. The great central ruby was redder than anything found in nature, its facets throwing flashes of scarlet defiance as the crown flipped and spun through its arcs of descent.

A falling star.

Starscream tensed, ready to lunge after it; seize it back to himself. He'd fought so hard to have this moment, sacrificed so much. But now it was slipping away, and it was already too late. The crown struck the bottom step. It bounced off, rolled, and time accelerated back to its normal speed as the intruder's heavy steel boot came down to crush it.

Starscream recoiled. His gaze traveled up the leg that was attached to that boot, following the lines of the powerful torso back up to… that face. That face that was somehow, impossibly, Megatron's. And wasn't. 

The intruder's lips parted. His voice was a ponderous roar, like the narration in a dataclip being played at the wrong speed. Starscream didn't care what he was saying. He was past the point of listening. It was time to act.

"Decepticons!" He sent up a series of blasts to get their attention. "Attack! Destroy these interlopers!"

No one moved, or even glanced in Starscream's direction. Everyone was staring at the intruder. Starscream sprang with a half-articulate battle cry, guns blazing. He scored several direct hits on the intruder before turning his attention to his companions: the tall purple one with the twin-pronged helm, and the stooped blue one with the batlike wings. Why did _they_ look so familiar? 

Starscream was certain he'd never seen any of these mechs before, but that didn't matter. They were _all_ going to die. He fired on each in turn, then took to the air, making sure to blast the leader with his thrusters as he shifted into his jet form. He rocketed upward, and that was when he noticed the sky. 

It had been clear moments ago, filled with stars. Now, great cloudbanks were sweeping in, drowning the city in roiling darkness. A stiff wind rattled his wings as the storm broke, rain battering his frame with crushing force.

The wrath of the storm matched his own. Lightning speared the blackness, sublimating water to a fiery haze, and something wild leaped within him. When thunder arrived, raging from the heights, Starscream raged with it. 

He soared higher, gathering the storm. It wrapped itself around him like a cloak, and when he plunged back toward the crowd, he brought the storm's fury down with him. His sonic boom rocked the pavement. When he opened fire, his blasts slashed down in great, jagged forks. His engines were thunder, his ordnance lightning. He and the storm were one. 

He rocketed past, strafing, then looped over to deliver a few cluster-bombs. The missiles detonated with shattering force, engulfing the intruder and his companions in a blazing supernova. Nothing should have been able to survive that. When the explosion cleared, Starscream fully expected to see them vanquished. They weren't. The intruders hadn't flinched. None of them had moved, none appeared damaged, and no one was even looking _up._

"I'm right here!" Starscream shouted. He transformed and dropped into their midst. "Don't just stand there like a bunch of dolts! Oust these interlopers! As your leader, I command it!"

No one reacted. The Decepticons stared blankly, and Starscream got the unnerving sense that they were looking _through_ rather than _at_ him. He fired a few more shots. The heights boomed, but there was still no response. Until someone—Astrotrain—punched his fist in the air.

"Long live Galvatron!" he shouted.

Starscream whirled on him. "What? _I'm_ your leader, not—"

"Long live Galvatron! Long live Galvatron!"

The other Decepticons had taken up the cry, pumping their fists as they shouted the unfamiliar name.

"Traitors!" Starscream snarled. "You're all traitors, every last one! Especially you, _crown-bearer."_ He stabbed a finger at Astrotrain's face, but the tall shuttle-mech continued his chant without a hitch. As if Starscream wasn't standing right there in front of him. 

The intruder, the one whom everyone was calling Galvatron, headed for the far end of the Hall. His minions fell in step behind him while the other Decepticons scuttled out of his path—and Starscream, to his immense self-disgust, scuttled with them.

There was something _about_ this mech, something uncanny. Starscream couldn't put a name to it, but as the tall figure strode past, he glimpsed something he wished he hadn't. 

The intruder had a second face protruding from the back of his helm. Its optics were bulging, its mouth frozen wide in a soundless scream. Worst of all, it was a face Starscream had no trouble recognizing.

"Megatron!" Starscream glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed the face, but no one else was even looking at it. Could they not see it?

"Ssstaaaar...." 

The familiar voice drew Starscream's attention back to the face. Its tortured gaze locked on his as it struggled to speak.

"Staaaaaaar...scre…"

The intruder raised his arm, reaching behind his helm. He did it so casually that he might have been reaching back to brush away a fleck of dust, but instead clamped his hand over the face. He gave it a firm shove, then withdrew. The face was gone.

Starscream tottered, his tanks churning. Had he really _seen_ that? Obviously not. Obviously, it had been a trick of the light.

Something brushed the outer edges of Starscream's field. He cringed back just in time to avoid a collision with the tall purple mech, the one who had served as this… Galvatron's… ship. The mech strode past without a second glance, as if Starscream was beneath his notice.

Fraggers. 

Starscream raised one of his rifles, meaning to get his unwelcome guests' attention once and for all, but something in him quailed. "Decepticons!" he shouted, turning to his troops instead. "Eject these interlopers from my sight!"

And still, no one glanced at him.

They were, in fact, leaving. All of them. Galvatron was marching toward Darkmount as if he owned the place, and the Decepticons were falling in behind him like dynametal ducklings.

"Where are you going?" Starscream demanded, hurrying after them. "That wasn't a suggestion, it was a command! I'm your—"

The ground flipped. Or perhaps the world did; Starscream couldn't be sure. All he knew was that one moment he was running after his troops, and the next he was back on top of the podium. 

"Wait!" He sent a volley of blasts skyward. "You can't leave! I haven't granted you permission!"

The sky rumbled as if in agreement, but the Decepticons continued their march, oblivious.

Starscream slammed a few random shots at the crowd, aiming above their heads. "Come back!" he shrieked, fighting to be heard above the storm. "Come back right now, or…" He trailed off as he happened to glance down and noticed, for the first time, what he was standing on.

Or, rather, _in._


	4. Dead Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His voice died in his throat. The bond was… empty. Inert. It wasn't silence. It wasn't the wall of obstinate refusal he'd been coming up against for the past few days. It was simply a dead space. A void where something _should_ have been, but wasn't.

At first, there were only lights. Blobs of color came next, followed by a low, mechanical hum.

"He's coming around," someone said.

Footsteps quickened, drawing closer. "Skyfire," another voice said. "How do you feel?"

Skyfire struggled to make out who'd spoken, but his optics refused to engage. The figure leaning over him remained a smudge of white and red haloed by a bright blur. 

"Where…" Skyfire tried to ask.

"Earth," the smudge replied, seeming to understand the half-articulated question. "Autobot City. You crashed. Remember?"

"Crashed…?" On Earth…? No. That had been long ago. Millions of years, though the edge of panic brought on by the memory still lingered. His own terror and another's, too, flooding him from beyond his own frame. 

Starscream…?

The panic felt too close, too immediate. There was something he'd forgotten; something about Starscream that he needed to remember.

"On fire," he managed to croak, running his glossa over his lips and recalling the taste of hot steel. "I was… burning up."

"Oh, not that kind of crash," the voice said quickly. "I meant a processor crash. Sorry about that. I normally deal with grounders, so I forgot the word would have a different meaning for you."

"Processor crash," Skyfire repeated. Of course. He hadn't _crashed,_ but… there _had_ been fire. Had he burned in the atmosphere? No, it couldn't be that, he remembered landing. The landing pad that was too small for him; landing Seeker-style, half-transformed, and then Springer coming out and then Magnus, and—

"No!" Skyfire sat bolt upright. Pain ripped through his chest and he doubled over, gasping.

"Easy," the pale blur murmured, and Skyfire felt a cool hand grasp his shoulder. "It's okay. You're all right now, just try to relax."

The hand pushed gently, urging him back down, Skyfire found he lacked the strength to resist. He fell back with a groan, and flinched when a pinpoint of brightness flared to life in front of him. 

"Can you see a light?" the voice asked.

Skyfire nodded.

"Good. Can you focus on it for me?"

The spark moved and Skyfire's gaze followed, wanting to hang on to the one thing in his surroundings that wasn't spinning. The tiny star solidified, becoming the tip of a medical penlight. A hand appeared next, holding the penlight, and was followed by an arm, a shoulder, and lastly a face. Skyfire was surprised to recognize it.

"First Aid," he said. "What are you doing here?"

As Skyfire's surroundings took shape, he saw that they were in Autobot City's infirmary. When he'd last seen First Aid, he'd been on Trion IV, bent over Chromia's motionless form. Seeing him here on the far side of the galaxy made no sense, unless—

"Did you come with Elita's convoy?"

"Yes." First Aid sounded surprised. "It's good that you remember that. Short-term memory can be badly affected by a processor crash, but—"

"I remember." When Skyfire had last seen Elita One, she'd been organizing a convoy of ships to transport needed supplies to Earth—much to the consternation of the medics who were trying to take care of her. "She said there was no time for grief with so many people in need of help," Skyfire recalled, "and she wanted every medic who could be spared to come here."

It was easy to see why. The infirmary was packed. Every berth was occupied, many with privacy screens drawn to conceal their occupants. The main doors were propped open, revealing even more medical cots lined up along the corridor. Skyfire felt a pang of remorse over slipping away when he had, but he'd needed to get here ahead of the convoy.

"How long was I out?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

"Two days. You collapsed suddenly while you were talking to—"

"Ultra Magnus, yes." It was all coming back now. "I need to talk to him. It's urgent; where is he?"

He tried to sit up again. His surroundings promptly dissolved into disconnected blobs of color, and he seized the edges of the berth in an effort to stabilize himself.

"Try to relax," First Aid advised, patting his arm. "I'm sure you'll have a chance to talk to him, but in the meantime I need to ask you some questions. Do you, ah… mind? I'm afraid they're kind of personal."

"Personal?" Something about that word, and the tone in which it had been spoken, set Skyfire on edge. He tensed even more when First Aid activated the berth's privacy screen. 

"Skyfire," he said, sinking down in the guest chair, "have you ever been, ah… bonded?"

 _Oh no,_ Skyfire thought. Here it came. The death of his chances to influence the Autobots in any direction whatsoever. Why hadn't he purged his call log when he'd had the chance? But of course, he knew why. He hadn't realized the call was fake until it was already too late to keep his logs from being aggregated in the Autobots' main security database. He could only hope that no one would find reason to look there.

"I—" he broke off. He didn't want to lie. "What makes you ask?" he tried instead.

"You've never been bonded?" First Aid asked, uncertainty swelling in his field. "I'll admit that spark-medicine isn't my specialty, but… I've seen a few cases lately." He glanced away with a flinch, and Skyfire knew which cases he was referring to. "Your symptoms are absolutely consistent with spark-shock, which is typically associated with the severing of a bond."

The room went still. Or seemed to. Skyfire stared at the young medic and slowly shook his head. "No," he said, reaching reflexively for his bond with Starscream. "It can't be—"

His voice died in his throat. The bond was… empty. Inert. It wasn't silence. It wasn't the wall of obstinate refusal he'd been coming up against for the past few days. It was simply a dead space. A void where something _should_ have been, but wasn't.

_Starscream!_

His bond-voice fell into flat silence, and he drew back with a shudder. Was this what had made him lose consciousness?

_No._

"It can't be that," he said aloud, recalling how small Chromia had appeared lying on a medical berth. She'd looked hollowed out, frail as a vacant shell. _That_ was what spark-shock looked like. Not… this. He was fine, or would be. "You said I had a processor crash. I'm sure that's all this is."

"Your processor crashed _because_ of your spark. It's not uncommon." First Aid shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "If it's not a severed bond, I don't know what else it could be. We had to put you in a coma to stabilize your spark." 

"But—" Skyfire's hand rose, as if it had become weightless, and settled on his chest. He wanted to scream. _It can't be that,_ he told himself. _It can't be him, please let it not be—_

But… there. Yes. He froze. There it was. A pulse. A flicker. Faint, as if infinitely distant, but definitely _there._

Quaking with relief, he poured a flurry of queries through the bond. There were no words to it, just an eruption of feeling. Nothing came back to him, but the remote presence flickered on like a silent beacon. It wasn't _contact._ It wasn't like reaching out and getting a true response, but it was certainly a sign of life.

 _Maybe it's me,_ he decided. If his spark had been traumatized during the processor crash, his ability to feel the bond might have been affected. That would explain why it seemed so faint, and it probably implied that he needed further medical attention. But of course, he couldn't ask First Aid. He needed to keep his secret safe, at least for a little longer. 

"No," he said, glancing up to meet the medic's expectant gaze. "I've never been bonded. It must be something else."

He hoped his field hadn't given him away. Hoped First Aid hadn't noticed the way his fingers had clenched against his chest, wanting to cradle that ghostly presence and keep it safe.

First Aid produced a datapad from his subspace. "I've never seen readings like this in someone who _wasn't_ bonded," he said, glancing it over. "But… as I said, spark-medicine isn't my specialty."

Skyfire fought a stab of guilt. He hated this part. Lying to his friends was a constant struggle, but he needed to keep his bond secret for everyone's sake: his own, the Autobots' and, most especially, Starscream's. There was no telling what Megatron would do to Starscream if he caught wind of their relationship, and in truth, there was no telling how the Autobots would react either. 

"Well," First Aid said, rising, "we'll just have to run some more tests. When you're well enough, I'd like to refer you to a colleague of mine. His name's Pharma, and he's forgotten more about spark-medicine than most medics will ever know. I'm sure he'll be able to—"

"That would be great," Skyfire lied, making a mental note to avoid any medic named Pharma. "Right now, though, I really do need to talk to Ultra Magnus." He swung his legs over the side of the berth, gripping the hand rail to balance himself. 

"No!" First Aid grabbed his arm. "You can't go anywhere until we know what this is."

"I just need a word," Skyfire said. "Can you tell me where he is?"

"He's…" First Aid sighed. "Cybertron."

"Cybertron?" In a rush, Skyfire remembered how his conversation with Springer and Ultra Magnus had ended. How Springer had been pushing for an attack. "When?" he asked.

"Yesterday. He and some others—"

"I have to go." Skyfire dismissed the privacy screen with a wave. The room swayed, then stabilized as he started toward the main doors.

First Aid darted in front of him. "You can't! There's no way you can fly after a major spark-event. It's not safe, and anyway if it wasn't…" he paused, glancing around. "If it wasn't what we thought," he said in a lower voice, "we need to find out what _did_ cause your symptoms. He'll be back in a couple of days, I'm sure. You can talk to him then."

"By then it might be too late," Skyfire said, keenly aware that it might _already_ be too late. "This is more important than my health. The future of Cybertron might be at stake."

As he stepped past First Aid, heading for the exit, he sent another pulse through the bond. Again, he got nothing. That left him with only one choice: Find Ultra Magnus, or Starscream, and prevent whatever was about to happen. If he could. He had to try.

 _I'm coming, Starscream,_ he told the silent bond. _Be ready._


	5. Mortal Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluttering movement drew Starscream's gaze to a scrap of fabric embedded in the remains. He dropped to a crouch, and for several long moments his mind refused to process what he was seeing. The rag was charred at the edges, but he caught glimpses of its original color. Purple. A rich, royal hue that he'd have recognized anywhere.

Starscream was standing on what had once been a body. A Seeker's body. There was no question about that. Starscream could tell by the shape of its legs, the distal components of which were mostly intact, though the rest of the carcass had been reduced to a smoldering ruin of iron-gray fragments. 

But what was it doing on _his_ podium, at _his_ coronation? And how had he ended up standing in the middle of it? Starscream took a step back, shaking his feet to rid them of any clinging corpse-dust. 

_Thundercracker,_ his mind suggested. _No. Skywarp._

But that couldn't be right. It couldn't be either of them. They'd died in space. He'd sensed their deaths through the trine-bond three day-cycles ago. But who else could it be? A member of Shockwave's squadron? If so, what was it doing here? Was Shockwave trying to undermine his leadership?

A fluttering movement drew Starscream's gaze to a scrap of fabric embedded in the remains. He dropped to a crouch, and for several long moments his mind refused to process what he was seeing. The rag was smaller than his hand. It was charred at the edges, but as it continued to stir in an unfelt breeze, he caught glimpses of its original color.

Purple. A rich, royal hue that he'd have recognized anywhere.

His storm died, the sky falling ominously silent. _No,_ he thought. This wasn't possible. This dead _thing_ wasn't… couldn't be. Of course not! What a ridiculous idea.

Hand shaking, he reached for the scrap. It fluttered free of his grasp. He tried again, and this time watched as the cloth passed straight through his fingers, no more substantial than smoke. He sprang up and kicked the carcass. His foot passed right through one of its bigger chunks.

He threw his head back and laughed. Laughed until he choked. _He_ wasn't dead. Obviously. This was a hologram—one of Hound's, perhaps—intended to confuse the unwary. Someone had gone to tremendous lengths to create the illusion that this… this ruinous husk… was _him._

But Starscream was not so easily fooled. He launched himself from the podium, transforming into jet mode as he took to the sky. If Autobots were lurking nearby, he'd find them. Find them, and make sure they paid for this latest insult. Wasn't it bad enough that they'd refused to acknowledge him as Decepticon leader? And now this. It was time he taught them some manners.

Starscream flew in a series of ever-expanding loops, scanning the city for signs of Autobot activity. He found none. In fact, there were no signs of _Decepticon_ activity, either. Where was everyone? Other patrols should have been about, but his comm yielded only static when he tried to hail them. 

Suddenly he was back at the Hall of Heroes.

He transformed, hovering above the podium, and glanced around in disbelief. He'd been heading _away_ from the Hall, not toward it, yet somehow he'd flown in a circle. Were his nav systems malfunctioning? He ran a quick self-diagnostic, but nothing unusual came up. If anything his systems were functioning at above-optimal levels, as if he was fresh from a major overhaul. Which he wasn't. 

"Must have gotten distracted." He shifted back into jet mode and banked away, this time on a different heading. Within moments, the familiar podium appeared directly in front of him. He veered off with a snarl of frustration and tried again. And again. No matter which direction he chose, he found himself back at the Hall.

 _I'm dreaming,_ he decided. Yes; that had to be it. That would explain everything, from the strange weather phenomena to the unnaturally silent city, to… well, this. He was most likely in his lab or his quarters, grabbing a few moments of recharge before his coronation. Which meant he _should_ be able to wake himself up. He'd woken himself from dreams before; it was just a matter of concentration.

Starscream transformed and dropped back onto the podium, placing his feet carefully so as to avoid contact with the… thing. He shut off his optics and formed a mental image of… he decided on his lab. He recharged in there more often than in his quarters. He pictured himself slumped over his work desk. That seemed the most likely scenario, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen asleep face-down in some experiment or another.

 _Focus,_ he told himself, willing himself to become aware of his body. His _real_ body, not this eerily perfect dream version. His imagination filled in the background hum of lab equipment, and the hard, smooth surface of the desk beneath his cheek. Once he'd envisioned it as vividly as possible, he willed himself to stir.

Nothing.

He shook himself, onlining his optics with a frustrated huff. The dream city before him was unchanged, its silent, empty shadowscape stretching to the horizon. The storm clouds had parted, and the stars shone down with an ethereal brightness. They looked like so many holes poked into the membrane of night, revealing glimpses of some unimagined world beyond.

Starscream shook himself, annoyed by the fanciful idea. Stars were stars. Giant flaming gas-balls, not portals to other realms. He needed to wake up. Get up, get on with his day; get crowned. _That_ was reality. That was what he needed to focus on. Not—

"Hello, Starscream." 

A voice from behind brought Starscream spinning around, rifles up.

"Graywing?" Starscream gaped at the apparition. "But… you're _dead!"_

"So I am." The ancient Seeker's thin lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. "What does that tell you?" 

"That I'm dreaming," Starscream answered promptly, studying his visitant with narrowed optics. He looked exactly as Starscream remembered, down to the crooked tilt of his mouth where his jaw had once been shattered, and the wing-stump that sagged brokenly behind his left shoulder. Not to mention the red Autobot insignia stamped proudly on his chest.

"Oh?" The specter lifted a browridge. "Do you dream of me often?"

"Of course not! Why would I?"

"Perhaps because you killed me?" Graywing suggested. "I didn't realize at the time that I was your _first_ kill. I dreamed of my own first kill often, and he was a Quintesson. Not… a friend."

Graywing took a step closer. 

Starscream brandished his rifle. "Stay back!" he hissed, wishing that his arm, and voice, weren't trembling quite so badly. Also, that Graywing wasn't looking at him with that sad, patient expression in his cobalt optics. "WHAT?" Starscream exploded. "Why are you staring at me like that? What are you even _doing_ here?"

"Surely the province of dreams is open to visits from the dead," Graywing answered with a bemused smile. "Unless…" he tipped his head to the side, expression thoughtful. "Unless you suspect you are _not_ dreaming. Is that a possibility, Starscream?"

Starscream bristled. "What are you suggesting? That I've lost my mind? Or maybe you're a hologram, like that… that repulsive _thing_ over there." 

He stabbed a finger at the body, and Graywing flicked a glance toward the corpse. A fleeting look of sorrow chased across his lopsided features, and Starscream had a sudden urge to smack the expression right off his face. 

"Starscream." Graywing settled his shoulders, his lone, blunt-edged wing settling with them. "There are many faults I could accuse you of, but stupidity has never been one of them. I believe you know _exactly_ what's happened here."


	6. Deicide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skyfire swept his gaze over the tumble of broken ships and bodies, desperate for a flash of silver and scarlet. Where was Starscream? Was he far enough away?

The vortex of blurred starlight solidified, forming a tapestry of constellations as Skyfire dropped from hyperspace. One star shone brighter than the rest, a silver torch framed against the galactic hub. Cybertron. Skyfire sped toward it with a surge of relief.

"Skyfire to Moon Base One," he said over comms. "Come in."

No response. He tried Moon Base Two, with the same result. A thread of unease wormed its way through his chassis. Cybertron looked… wrong. As he flew closer, he noticed that its bright shape wasn't resolving into the familiar lopsided sphere. It was—

A dark shape hurtled toward Skyfire. He veered off, barely avoiding a collision. As it tumbled past, he saw what it was: a building. Or most of one. It was half-crushed, and looked as if it had been torn straight from Cybertron's surface. A quick scan revealed no life signs within, though Skyfire's sensors did pick up a faint one straight ahead.

Dread pooled in his tanks as he accelerated toward it. A metallic speck appeared on his sensors, and as he came within visual range he saw that it was a figure. A Decepticon, though not one Skyfire recognized. He was splayed like a starfish, arms flung wide to embrace nothingness. His chest had been ripped open, leaving his spark exposed.

Skyfire slowed, approaching with caution. He hated that the first thing he'd looked for was the mech's insignia; now he was examining the broken, dying body for possible signs of menace. What had the war turned him into, in the few short years he'd been involved? Disgusted with himself, he transformed and captured the mech's shoulders.

"What happened?" he asked, using a universal comm frequency that any Cybertronian should be able to decode. 

The mech's scarlet optics flared unnaturally bright. His mouth opened, working silently until at last, a single word came over the connection.

::U…ni…cronnnn.::

"Unicron?" Skyfire recognized the name; any Cybertronian would. It was a name that haunted the nightmares of many a youngling. _Watch out, or Unicron will eat you!_ Skyfire had known, from an early age, that the space-faring monster was nothing more than a myth. Was this Decepticon speaking in riddles?

The mech seized Skyfire's arm, raised a shaking hand and pointed at Cybertron. ::Daaaaark,:: he croaked. ::Daaark God is… upon us.:: His body convulsed. The hand on Skyfire's arm tightened with a feverish strength, then slackened as his optics went dark and the tortured spark guttered out. 

Skyfire stared at the blank face, the empty spark-chamber, watching as the Decepticon's colors faded to gray. Finally, he forced his gaze back to Cybertron. From here, it was still just a bright smudge. Sick foreboding lodged in Skyfire's chest as he boosted the magnification on his optics. What he saw looked very much like a sparkling's nightmare.

Both the moons were gone. A deep, smoking gash had been ripped into the planet's surface, exposing part of the inner core. And looming above it all, overshadowing entire cities with its batlike wings was… well, Skyfire knew it couldn't be a _god,_ but when its mouth gaped open, revealing a terrible emptiness, he could understand why it might be taken for one.

As he watched, a line of bright bursts popped near the creature's head. Explosions? Skyfire glanced at the dead mech. He was a civilian build, but his frame bore signs of recent battle. The Decepticons had risen to defend Cybertron. Were rising still, despite the odds. Was Starscream leading them, as Springer's comment had implied? How many lives had been sacrificed? How many were dying, even now?

He reached through the bond, seeking reassurance. The connection pulsed, still faint but definitely there. Wherever Starscream was, he was not among the fallen. At least not yet. Skyfire transformed, releasing the dead mech's body to the void, and ramped his thrusters to full power. 

_I'm coming,_ he sent. _Hang on._

He was no warrior, despite all attempts to turn him into one, but if Starscream was fighting for their planet's future, Skyfire would fight by his side. Die by his side too, if it came to that.

Within moments, he was close enough to see the fighting. Decepticons of every frametype were attacking the monster in great, disorganized swarms. Many more were dead. Grayed-out bodies and parts of bodies floated past Skyfire as he winged toward the fray. He scanned the creature for possible weak spots, knowing he'd only have one chance to make a difference.

 _Please,_ Skyfire thought as he prepped his ordnance. _Let me see him one last time._ Even if it was from a distance; even if they never spoke. Just seeing Starscream would be enough.

He chose his target: a small vent on the monster's chest, near where its spark should be—if it had one. A massive arm shot out, clawed fingers raking toward him. Skyfire dodged, determined to live long enough to deliver at least one good, solid blast.

But the creature wasn't trying to stop him. It was striking out at random, arms flailing. Green light stabbed from the lens of one ruptured optic, a piercing searchlight that swept in wild arcs as the creature began to twist and buck.

Skyfire cut his engines. He transformed, scanning the chaos of battle. The bond felt stronger here, but if Starscream was nearby, Skyfire couldn't see him. 

The creature… Unicron… was tearing into its own chest. More of that strange green light spilled from its body as it ripped great chunks of armor from its own torso. What was the source of that light? An internal chain reaction? If so, did that mean— 

The creature roared.

Sound didn't travel through space, yet somehow that didn't matter. The very fabric of reality seemed to tremble as a tidal wave of anguished sound blasted from Skyfire's comm, rattling his frame down to the struts. Others could hear it too. Skyfire saw a nearby Decepticon clutch his helm, grimacing in pain, while his companions turned and fled.

Skyfire didn't flee. He desperately wanted to. Every circuit in his body was shrieking a silent cacophony of discordant terror, yet he couldn't move. The sight before him was too mesmerizing. Was he witnessing the death-throes of a god? And if so, what did that mean?

The monster arched, tossing its head back. Its second optic shattered, pale green shards erupting into the void as a metallic object punched through the lens. A ship? Skyfire gaped at the angular shape as it hurtled toward him. 

It _was_ a ship, and the sight of it jolted Skyfire from his trance. The creature might or might not be a god, but it was definitely about to explode. That wasn't a philosophical question, it was a hard fact. Skyfire swept his gaze over the tumble of broken ships and bodies, desperate for a flash of silver and scarlet. Where was Starscream? Was he far enough away?

 _Please, love,_ he sent. _Where—_

::Heeeeeelllllppp!!:: The panic-wrenched voice wasn't Starscream's, though it was transmitting on a Decepticon frequency. 

"Where are you?" Skyfire asked. 

An incoherent barrage of data followed, and Skyfire managed to glean an image of himself, hovering in the void. He was seeing himself from another's perspective, and whoever it was, they were behind him. He spun, following the sightline suggested by the transmission, and found himself staring at a Decepticon. This one, he recognized: Reflector. The composite spy-mech was clinging to a slab of debris. They were holding on with one hand, the other arm having been sheared off, along with most of the right side of their body. 

"What about your counterparts?" Skyfire asked as he flew toward them. 

A second transmission spat through the link and Skyfire, with a jolt of pity, understood. As grievously injured as this Reflector was, they'd stand a far better chance if the remainder of their composite team had survived. Which they hadn't, if the image he'd just received was any indication.

"Hold on," he said as he extended a containment field to enfold the damaged mech. Normally, he would use such a field to cushion delicate cargo within his hold. That made it perfect for transporting a damaged Decepticon whom he didn't entirely trust. He transformed into shuttle mode and was about to open his hold when another deafening transmission tilted reality on its axis.

::DESSSTINY…!:: 

Unicron was twisting and thrashing, lances of green fire pouring from jagged holes in its torso. 

::You cannot destroy…::

The creature bucked, its body straining.

::MY DESTINY!!!::

Unicron ruptured from within, its head ripping free while the rest of its body detonated in a firestorm of plasma. A wave of debris hurtled outward, heading straight toward Skyfire. He didn't have time to think. He transformed back into his mech form, seized a chunk of wreckage and used it to shield both Reflector and himself as the avalanche of shrapnel slammed into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the word _deicide_ (not to be confused with _decide_ ) means 'the act of killing a god.' Opinions may vary on whether Unicron actually qualifies as a deity, but it's still a cool word.


	7. Psychopomp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was infuriating how Graywing could, with a mere turn of phrase, unsettle Starscream's entire sense of reality. Why hadn't Starscream outgrown this? He was the Decepticon leader, for frag's sake, not some untried youngster. "Leave me alone!" he snarled. "I'm not _dead._ If I were, I think I'd know about it!"

"Turn," Graywing commanded, pointing to the body. "Take a hard look at where your dissolute life-path has brought you."

Starscream obeyed, and instantly despised the part of himself that still, even now, snapped to attention. He could shoot his old teacher in the spark, it seemed, yet not disobey his direct order. He spun back, glaring. "What's your point? Even if that body was real—which it isn't—it certainly can't be mine."

"And yet it appears to be wearing your coronation… _garment."_ Graywing emphasized that final word with a hint of disdain. "How can that be, if the body is not yours?"

"I already told you! It's a hologram. Either that or I'm—"

"Dreaming, yes," Graywing cut in. "You've mentioned your theory. Though there is, of course, a third possibility." He allowed the sentence to hang, as though waiting for a bright but particularly stubborn student to 'get' something.

"Oh yes, of course!" Starscream crossed his arms. "How silly of me. I didn't even consider that I might be an incorporeal phantasm, but now that you've mentioned it, it seems _far_ more plausible than my own paltry explanations!"

Graywing sighed. It was the long, exasperated sigh that Starscream had heard so many times during Lore studies; typically, whenever Starscream had challenged the validity of doctrines such as the existence of Primus, or the infallibility of the Matrix.

"Such potential," Graywing said at last. "Such brilliance. Yet look what you've done with it."

"What I've _done_ with it?" Starscream bristled. "I've done very well, thanks! I'll have you know I'm the leader of the Decepticons!"

"You're…" Graywing paused. "Dust." He took a step. Or… two. Or… Starscream wasn't actually sure if he'd moved at all, yet suddenly he was next to the body, a move which gave Starscream no choice but to turn and face it. "Listen carefully," Graywing said. "I am dead. I'm dead because you killed me, and we are having this conversation because Galvatron killed _you."_

Starscream scowled. "No."

"Just _no?"_ Graywing was getting annoyed; Starscream could tell by the way the left corner of his mouth was twitching. "You believe you can alter reality by the sheer force of your denial?"

"Obviously not! _That_ would be magic, and I trust we're both smart enough to know that isn't a thing. But since none of this can possibly be real," Starscream took two steps of his own, bringing him nose to nose with his former teacher, "I'm free to deny it as much as I want."

Graywing opened his mouth as if to say something, but this time Starscream cut him off.

"If this _isn't_ a dream, how could you know about Galvatron?"

That was Starscream's ace in the hole, and for a brief moment he thought he'd won; Graywing's sorrowful expression said as much. But when Graywing spoke, his answer was both unexpected and mind-numbingly predictable.

"I hold myself responsible; at least in part. Had I been able to reach you, had I been able to instill proper values of faith and respect and honor, we might not be having this conversation. Or, a very different one. This is my penance for having failed to guide you in life." Graywing held up a hand, forestalling protest as he added, "I know exactly who Galvatron is. I know this because we are all One."

Something about the weight he'd placed on that last word made Starscream uneasy. It wasn't just the triteness of the platitude. That, Starscream was well-used to. But there was a resonance behind it now, a ring of authenticity that he found disquieting.

"Oh please," Starscream finally managed, though not with half the strength he would have liked. "Not _that_ old line."

"It isn't just a line," Graywing said. "It's true, Starscream, whether you choose to believe it or not."

"Then riddle me this," Starscream challenged, bolstering his conviction as well as he could. "If you're so all-knowing, then tell me: who _is_ this Galvatron?"

Graywing gave him a tired look. "Would you believe me if I told you?"

"Probably not," Starscream admitted, "but—"

"Galvatron is the one you knew, in life, as Megatron."

Somehow, that wasn't unexpected. The memory of Megatron's tormented features protruding from the back of the intruder's helm rose, chimera-like, before his mind's eye. Starscream didn't want to credit _that_ vision as having been any more real than the appearance that he was speaking with his old Lore Master, but he couldn't keep a note of sincere curiosity from his voice as he asked, "How can that be true?" 

Graywing hesitated. "After you threw Megatron and the others into space," he began, then waited another moment, as if gauging Starscream's reaction, "they encountered the entity known as Unicron."

"Unicron? Nonsense! Unicron is a fable; a legend meant to frighten sparklings. Nothing more!"

"I'm afraid Unicron is quite real. He made a deal with your former leader; reformatted him into the individual who now goes by the name Galvatron. And it was Galvatron who killed you. Killed," Graywing repeated, fixing Starscream with a steely gaze. "Please try to grasp this concept. Believe me, there are things I'd rather do than stand here trying to convince you."

"Then by all means go and DO them!" It was infuriating how Graywing could, with a mere turn of phrase, unsettle Starscream's entire sense of reality. Why hadn't Starscream outgrown this? He was the Decepticon leader, for frag's sake, not some untried youngster. "Leave me alone!" he snarled. "I'm not _dead._ If I were, I think I'd know about it!"

"You do know," Graywing insisted. "You're being a stubborn glitch about it, much as I would expect, but you do _know._ You, Starscream, are dead; and this body, which you find so repulsive, is yours."

"No! Stop telling me I'm dead, or—" Starscream broke off and, lost for words, took aim at the Autobot insignia on Graywing's chest.

Graywing spread his hands. "Go ahead. Shoot me, and see what happens."

Starscream tensed his shoulder, refining his aim. "Watch out, or I will! I'll do it!"

"Yes. I told you to go ahead."

Starscream's arm began to shake. He lowered his rifle with a growl.

"You don't want to find out what happens, do you?" Graywing's tone was sad, his smile pitying. "That's because deep down, you know I'm right."

"No, it's because I know this is a sham! Were I dead, there would be a state funeral. With speeches about my life, and a hundred-gun salute, and a procession of grief-stricken mourners!"

"Are you quite certain of that?"

"Of course! Didn't I mention I'm the leader of the Decepticons?"

"You may have," Graywing responded dryly. "Yet it seems your loyal subjects have followed Galvatron. As opposed to, say, prostrating themselves with grief."

"Yes!" Starscream shot back. "Because!" He fired his rifle skyward, punctuating each word, "I'm! Not! Dead!"

Graywing turned his back. Starscream opened his mouth, ready with a squawk of protest, but froze when he saw where the elder Seeker's gaze was directed. A glowing shape was rising in the sky just beyond Darkmount. It was easily the size of a moon, but was shaped… like a head. 

Starscream lowered his rifle, staring at the object. "What the frag…?" 

The head was crowned by a pair of curving horns. It was rising on its side, one horn pointing straight up toward the zenith. As the second optic came into view, Starscream couldn't escape the feeling that the monstrosity's dead, shattered gaze was staring right at him.

Graywing glanced back at Starscream. "Do you still contend that Unicron is a myth?"

"Of… of course!" Starscream hated the quaver in his voice. "Unicron is no more real than Primus! Or the Easter Bunny," he added, with an extra dose of spite. 

"Easter... Bunny?" Graywing frowned. "What is that?"

"Ah." Starscream smirked. "So there _are_ a few things you don't know." He strolled past Graywing and paused at the top of the steps, staring at the head. Yes, it did bear a striking resemblance to depictions of Unicron that he'd seen in old texts, but that only supported his contention that this was a dream. A synthesis of random imagery which his subconscious had pasted together to form this shaky—but surprisingly convincing—narrative.

Yet as the shadows cast by this strange new 'moon' stretched long, Starscream couldn't help noticing that the spark-furnaces at the bases of the statues had gone out. They'd been blazing during his coronation, but now they were dark. Gone, too, were the electrical arcs that had danced like auroras overhead, and… the landscape itself had changed. 

Darkmount was a lightless cutout against the sky, its silhouette now lopsided as if a great chunk of it had been ripped away. The city beyond was a smoking ruin. When had all this happened? Surely he would have noticed a battle of such magnitude raging around him, but there'd been nothing.

Starscream activated his comm. "Soundwave!" he barked. "Come in!" There was no reply; just a whisper of static. He tried a different frequency. "Shockwave! What's happened to Darkmount? I want a full report, now!"

When he got no answer he leaped from the podium and stalked along the Hall, trying comm frequencies as he went. Had it been an Autobot attack? Had anyone survived? His urgency escalated with every unanswered call—until suddenly, he heard voices. Then footsteps, coming toward him. A pair of figures were emerging from Darkmount's inky shadow. 

"Stop dragging your pedes," the first one said, his voice distinctly recognizable. "We haven't got all night."

"Dirge?" Starscream hurried toward him. "Where is everyone? What happened to—"

"I'm not dragging!" the second figure whined, and Starscream recognized him, too.

"Scavenger?" Starscream stared at the odd pair as they shuffled onto the bridge. Dirge was limping badly, and looked as if he'd recently been in a battle. Scavenger appeared unharmed but was indeed dragging his feet, trudging along with all the enthusiasm of a mech marching to his own execution.

"Why are we even here?" Scavenger demanded. "Why are we _doing_ this?"

That was a good question. There was something troubling about the sight of these two particular individuals together. Not that they shouldn't be; it was just that there was no reason for it. Scavenger could usually be found with the other members of his gestalt team, and Dirge was usually with his Trine. They had but one thing in common, as far as Starscream knew, and that one thing hardly constituted a reason for them to hang out together. Quite the opposite.

 _Dream,_ Starscream reminded himself. Of course. The one thing they had in common was _him._ It was logical, in a dreamlike way. They had appeared because of their connection to him, and since they were both figments of his imagination, it stood to reason they might hold the clue he needed to get back to reality.

"Fellas!" Starscream called. Neither of the pair glanced at him. Determined to get their attention, he strode toward them. "Can either of you point me in the direction of—"

The world flipped, and Starscream was back atop the podium. He swore.

"Why does this keep _happening?"_

Graywing folded his arms. "I could tell you, but I do not believe you are ready to hear it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts: Graywing was first mentioned in my very first SkyStar story, [The Osculation Paradox](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757767), which I published in 2014. Yes, this scene has been in the works for that long! Also, a _psychopomp_ is someone who conducts the spirits of the dead into the afterlife. Divine examples include Hermes, Charon, and the Egyptian god Anubis, though ordinary mortals can also serve in this role. In Starscream's case, I wanted it to be someone he'd known in life, since he seems more the type to listen to a former teacher than to someone claiming to be a god. Even so, he's not _that_ willing to listen! As you've seen. ;-)


	8. Life Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream was here, his presence almost physical. It seemed imprinted on the very shadows.
> 
>  _Please,_ Skyfire sent. _You have to trust me._
> 
> But trust him to do what? Skyfire wasn't sure.

Skyfire placed his hands on the Decepticon space cruiser's fractured hull.

It was here. 

Right here.

The ship was one derelict among many. It drifted aimlessly through the debris-field, seemingly undecided as to whether it would tumble toward Cybertron in a decaying orbit, or spin off into the darkness of deep space. Soon enough, that decision would be made for it by one of the Autobot salvage crews. Like most of the other Decepticon vessels that had been launched against Unicron, it would be stripped of usable parts, then smelted.

But Skyfire didn't belong to any of the salvage crews. He was, in fact, trying desperately to stay ahead of them. They needed to work fast, of course. They couldn't allow the burning carcasses of inert Decepticon spaceships to come hurtling from the sky, bombarding Cybertron's already battered landscape. But that just meant Skyfire had to work faster. Had to find Starscream before they did.

And Starscream was _here._ Right here. All Skyfire had to do was find a way in.

His questing fingers discovered a crack in the hull. He forced it wider, using his knees for leverage as he tore a section of plating aside. It floated free, and he hauled himself in through the gap he'd created.

His comm crackled. ::Hey, Skyfire. Where are you?::

It was Cosmos. Skyfire didn't answer right away. He switched his vision to infra-red, scanning the ship's interior. It was pitch dark, and the lack of vibrations through the walls and deck plating indicated that the power-core was inert. He didn't notice any sign of bodies, but that didn't mean the ship was empty.

Reluctantly, he transmitted his coordinates over the secure channel they'd been using. Cosmos unleashed a torrent of static and bleeps that required no translation for Skyfire to understand he was being cussed out.

::What are you doing over _there?::_ Cosmos snapped, switching back to speaking in Neocybex. ::It's way off our grid!::

"I picked up a life signal," Skyfire said, moving further into the ship. 

::But we've already been through that area!:: came the indignant response. ::There were _no_ life signs.::

"I guess we missed one." Skyfire pressed forward into the dark, finding his way by ghostly heat-signatures and the gentle, insistent pull of his spark. 

He switched his comm to a much older mode of encryption and whispered, "Starscream?"

No reply. He tried again, this time using their bond.

_Please._

Still nothing.

But Starscream _was_ here, his presence almost physical. It seemed imprinted on the very shadows.

 _Please,_ Skyfire sent again. _You have to trust me._

But trust him to do what? Skyfire wasn't sure. Yes, the medics aboard Elita One's triage ship were treating Decepticon casualties, but Starscream wasn't just any Decepticon. They hadn't been thrilled when Skyfire had flown in with Reflector, who was relatively low-ranking, so Skyfire could only imagine how they'd react on seeing their enemies' second-in-command. If Starscream was hurt beyond Skyfire's ability to help, he'd surely end up a prisoner—or worse.

But Skyfire couldn't think of that now. His task was finding Starscream. After that… well, he'd figure something out. For both of them. 

He edged along the cramped corridors, wings scraping the ceiling. The pulsations in his spark seemed to come from everywhere at once, though they grew stronger as he neared the front of the ship. On reaching a doorway that could only lead to the control bridge, he paused. What lay beyond? What was he about to see?

Steeling himself for anything, he stepped forward—and the bond winked out.

Skyfire froze, one hand locked on the doorframe as his spark reeled. This, he reminded himself, had happened before. The first time had been in the infirmary, and it had happened several times since. Was it deliberate? Was Starscream closing off his end of the bond to prevent Skyfire from finding him?

 _I'd never let them hurt you,_ Skyfire sent. _Please trust me. Let me help; let me—_

There.

His hand flew to his chest, covering the weak pulse. It was fainter than before, but definitely there. Had it quickened in response to Skyfire's plea? Or… was Starscream even aware of him? Skyfire leaned forward, peering through the doorway. 

On first glance, the control bridge appeared deserted. The damage here was far worse than it was elsewhere on the ship. A section of the wall had caved inward, as if punched by a colossal fist. Skyfire thought again of Unicron's flailing arms, and shuddered. Consoles lay overturned, their casings ruptured and their innards spilling out.

The forward viewport was webbed with cracks, but still displayed an image of the debris-field. Ships, pieces of ships, pieces of Unicron and other less recognizable bits of wreckage drifted past. All was framed by Cybertron's moonless crescent. Moonless apart from Unicron's head, which had settled into orbit as a grisly memento of the fate Cybertron had narrowly avoided.

::Skyfire,:: Cosmos' voice came through the comm. ::I'm at the coordinates you sent, but I'm not seeing you.:: Cosmos paused. ::You are _not_ inside that Decepticon ship—are you?::

"I'll be out in a moment," Skyfire promised, earning himself a second barrage of outrage in Cosmos' native language.

::Belay that,:: Cosmos snapped. ::I'm coming in.::

"No need," Skyfire answered quickly, taking a final look around. He was about to leave when he noticed something triangular poking from behind the backrest of what might once have been the main control chair. Was it…? He stepped closer. Yes, it was. A wing.

"Starscream!"

He spun the chair around and found himself staring into a dead, screaming face. He lurched back. It wasn't Starscream. Couldn't be. This Seeker's colors had been in a darker range—hadn't they? Or was he merely telling himself that because— 

::Are you crazy?:: Cosmos blurted from the doorway. ::There could have been Decepticons in here! You could have been—:: He broke off, his gaze refocusing past Skyfire. ::Oh wow,:: he murmured, round shoulders sinking. ::That is a _bad_ way to go. Even for a Decepticon.::

It was. A broken spar had lanced through the mech's upper chest, puncturing his spark-chamber and pinning his body to the back of the chair. As Skyfire looked more closely, he noted the narrow helm, the shorter, wedge-shaped wings, and numerous other indicators that this Seeker's alt had been a tri-jet rather than an Earth aircraft.

::He wasn't someone you knew, was he?:: Cosmos asked.

Skyfire glanced at him, surprised. Cosmos was one of the few Autobots who could have asked a question like that in such a non-accusatory tone. As a flier himself, Cosmos could understand the reasons why fliers might flock together. But the fact that he'd asked also implied that he hadn't heard Skyfire speak Starscream's name just now. 

"No," Skyfire replied, resolving to be more careful from now on. "I didn't know him." He drew a salvage marker from his subspace and attached it to the corpse's arm. Not that it would do much good. "I… need to say a few words."

Cosmos took a step back. "Sure thing." He didn't question why Skyfire would want to say words over the body of a stranger, much less an enemy. He seemed to innately grasp the complexities of life, and war. It was a quality that Skyfire greatly appreciated. 

Bowing his head, Skyfire crossed his palms over his spark and tried to recall one of the Seeker elegies he'd heard. "Because I have flown high as the stars," he finally intoned, "I have no fear to die. I rise on clement updrafts to take sojourn in the sky."

It wasn't a very traditional elegy. It was, however, the only one he could remember. It made no reference to gods, Primes or the Allspark, and was thus the only elegy Starscream had deemed acceptable when a beloved kinsmech had passed. That had been long before the war, but Skyfire could still hear echoes of Starscream's voice in those words.

He followed the blessing with a moment of silence. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do. The salvage crews were unlikely to treat Decepticon bodies with any degree of ceremony. They might attempt to repatriate the corpse to Kaon or some other Decepticon city, but it was far more likely to be smelted—or simply left.

Cosmos cleared his vocalizer. ::Silverbolt and Skylynx reported in,:: he said quietly. ::They're heading to Elita's flagship to refuel. Maybe we should join them?::

"You go ahead." Skyfire turned for the door. "I'm going to keep searching."

::For what?:: Cosmos' earlier frustration had returned. ::We've been over this debris-field so many times; I don't think anyone else is left alive out here.::

"But there is," Skyfire insisted.

Cosmos gave him a quizzical look. ::What makes you so sure?::

"I just… I think there is. That's all."

Cosmos fell silent. ::Are you feeling all right?:: he asked finally. 

"Of course," Skyfire said, and knew he'd answered too quickly. "What makes you ask?"

It was a foolish question, considering the circumstances. They were standing on a wrecked ship in the midst of a debris-field, after their planet had narrowly avoided an unspeakable fate. Nothing was 'all right' or even had a right to be, but Cosmos' perceptive gaze unnerved him.

::You've been acting strange.:: Cosmos shrugged. ::That is all.::

"I'm fine. It's—"

::Wait!:: Cosmos held up a hand. His optics dimmed, then brightened. ::Delta band!:: he exclaimed. ::Why didn't you say so? And here I was, thinking you were seeing ghosts!::

"Ghosts?" Skyfire tried the delta band, and there it was. The shadow of a spark-pulse, half swallowed by a shell of static. A _flier's_ spark-pulse. His own spark skipped a beat.

Cosmos marched past him and into the corridor, his cylindrical helm swiveling from side to side as he scanned in all directions. ::I think it's coming from the rear,:: he reported. ::Are you able to detect it?::

"Yes, but something's masking it. Radiation maybe?"

Cosmos snapped his stubby fingers. ::The engine room!::

Together, they rushed to the back of the ship. The heavily shielded doors that led to the engine chamber crumpled like foil when Skyfire threw his weight against them, and he and Cosmos stumbled through into the darkened recess beyond.

::Look!:: Cosmos pointed to the floor, where Skyfire's infrared vision had no trouble picking up a long smear of energon, and faintly glowing hand-prints. Someone had dragged themselves into a utility shaft. Someone who was bleeding badly.

::Careful,:: Cosmos warned, but Skyfire wasn't listening. He thrust his head into the shaft. Something warm and wet dripped onto him from above. He twisted his neck to look upward, and found himself staring into the muzzle of a laser pistol. The slim, shaky hand that gripped the weapon wasn't Starscream's, but it definitely did belong to a Seeker. One who badly needed help.

He held out his hands, palms open. "We're not going to hurt you."

The Seeker's lips curled to expose fangs, but her optics were dim. She gurgled, a trickle of energon spilling from the corner of her mouth. The pistol slipped from her grasp, and Skyfire caught her as she sagged.

"Let's get her to the triage ship."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon of the Week: You may have noticed the hints that Cosmos speaks a different language than most Cybertronians. That's because I headcanon him as being from a different planet entirely, and I can't help envisioning an entire civilization of adorable little UFOs. If his people tend to be explorers, that might also explain some of the flying saucer sightings on Earth.


	9. State Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His arms felt perfectly solid as he drew them around himself. He was shuddering to his wingtips, flight engines racing in a pointless instinct to flee. To fly as far and fast as he could in the hope that he might outrun this. Outmaneuver it. Make it untrue with nothing more than the sheer force of his will.

"Scavenger! Dirge!" Starscream started down the podium steps, waving to get their attention. "I'm over here!" He got no reply, and neither of the two approaching mechs gave the least sign of having heard him. 

"It is not ku'at to steal from the dead," Dirge was saying. He was affecting his best priest-voice, his sepulchral tones rolling through the Hall of Heroes like a dark tide.

"It wasn't stealing!" Scavenger retorted, now hurrying to catch up. He glanced nervously at the rows of towering statues as if he expected them to attack. "It fell right at my feet. No one else seemed to want it, and it's not like _he_ needed it anymore."

Needed what? Who were they talking about? Starscream wanted to ask, but something held him back. Dirge was staring at him. No; he was staring at the podium. Specifically at its summit, his features resolute with a grim purpose. As if he'd come here to… oh no. Not _that._

"Dirge," Starscream began urgently, striding toward him. 

Dirge cut him off. "It is said," he proclaimed, his words clearly addressed to Scavenger alone, "that if the decedent cared greatly for the object taken, his spirit will linger between worlds, searching until he finds it."

"That's ridiculous!" Starscream and Scavenger both inadvertently spoke in unison.

"You can't possibly believe that," Scavenger added with a visible shudder.

"I never said I did." Dirge sent a smug glance over his shoulder, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smirk. "You are the superstitious one. Do you believe it?"

Scavenger clutched at the air in front of him as if to defend his subspace from some unseen attacker. He seemed to realize what he was doing, and forced his arms to his sides. "Of course not!" he snapped, glaring furiously at Dirge.

Dirge replied with a soft "Hmph." 

This seemed to end the conversation and the pair, now silent, continued their march toward the podium. 

"Guys!" Starscream tried again, his tone rising with desperation. "I'm trying to get out of this dream! Can either of you show me the way?"

Graywing appeared at his shoulder. "You already know the way," he murmured. "You just haven't accepted it yet."

"Shut up," Starscream hissed. Raising his voice, he shouted, "Dirge! Scavenger!"

"They cannot hear us," Graywing said quietly as the pair shuffled past. "Nor can they see us. We are no longer part of their world."

Starscream ignored him. "Dirge!" He darted after the other Seeker, placing himself directly in his path. "As your leader, I demand you acknowledge me!"

He waved a hand in front of Dirge's face. Dirge tensed. For a split instant, Starscream thought the other Seeker's gaze flicked toward him, but the moment passed as quickly as it had occurred—and Dirge winked out of existence. Scavenger did too.

Starscream's mouth dropped open. "Where—" He gaped at the spot where they'd been. This was a dream. A dream, he told himself. Anything could happen in a dream. A voice from behind—Scavenger's voice—brought him spinning around.

"I can't do this."

Scavenger was at the foot of the podium, standing with his head bowed and his fists clenched. His gaze was focused on the steps before him while Dirge, using his antigravs for levitation, settled himself atop the podium. Starscream noted the care with which Dirge placed his feet, as if he didn't want to step on the… _thing._ Starscream couldn't blame him.

"I'm afraid you must," Dirge told Scavenger. His tone was shockingly gentle. "You will become accustomed to the sight of death, as I have."

The sight of death? Fresh alarm jolted through Starscream. Dirge was the Crypt Master. What if he'd gotten the wrong idea, and thought the mess on the podium was _Starscream?_

"Dirge!" Starscream hurried toward him with renewed urgency. "That thing isn't—"

"Why _me?_ " Scavenger cut in plaintively. "Why are you making _me_ do this?"

"It is always preferable that the decedent's friends and kin preside over the handling of his remains," Dirge replied, settling his intakes with a near-inaudible sigh. "Starscream had neither friends nor kin, so he has us."

"But that _thing_ isn't me!" Starscream shouted—and found himself, quite unexpectedly, at Dirge's side. "That isn't me! I'm right here! Why won't you even look at me?"

Starscream made a grab for Dirge's arm, and two things happened. One, his hand went straight through the arm. And two, Dirge flinched, his own hand rising reflexively as if to swat Starscream away. Starscream balked, staring at Dirge, whose gaze seemed to follow him for a moment before flicking aside.

"You can _see_ me, can't you?" Starscream demanded. "Dirge, I am your commanding officer! I _order_ you to—"

He broke off as Dirge calmly reached into his subspace and drew forth a metal urn. He set it on the podium next to the body, and Starscream went rigid. He'd seen urns like that. He knew what it was for, and the name inscribed on its side was… 

"No!" he shouted. "No, please!" He heard the whimper in his own voice, and didn't care. "Don't bury that… _thing_ as if it's me! It's not! Dirge, please—"

"Starscream." Graywing touched his arm, his hand entirely substantial. "Come with me. There is no need for you to witness this."

"I don't think you understand the situation! These fools think this disgusting pile of rubbish is _me!_ They're going to sweep it into _that_ —" he yanked his arm free to point at the urn "—and stick it in a tomb with my _name_ on it!"

"Yes," Graywing agreed. "You said you wanted a state funeral; your friends here are trying to provide one."

"These buffoons aren't my friends, and I'm not dead!" Starscream whirled toward Scavenger. "You, then! Tell Dirge I'm not dead!"

Scavenger, still at the base of the steps, balled his hands into fists. _"You?"_ he demanded, his voice rising. "You and Starscream were… what, _lovers?"_

Starscream caught his vents, glancing between the two of them. _"Lovers?"_ Scavenger's non-sequitur question was so ludicrous that he had to laugh. "Are you joking? You must be defective if you think we were anything but—"

"I believe the expression 'frag buddies,' much as I dislike it, would be more accurate," Dirge replied, his gaze firmly on Scavenger. "Similar to the two of you, I suspect."

"Thank you!" Starscream exclaimed. Scavenger had always been in denial about the actual nature of their arrangement, which was partly why Starscream had ended it. Not the main reason, but certainly a factor. "It's high time someone injected a dose of reality into these proceedings!" 

Graywing gave a slight cough, which Starscream ignored.

"Similar to… oh, Primus!" Scavenger's voice soared to an indignant squawk. "You knew about… and the two of you… were also…?" He wobbled, as if his gyros were shorting out. "For how long? Wait, never mind! I don't even want to know, it's disgusting!"

"Disgusting?" Dirge's voice sank to a growl, the air around him taking on a palpable chill. "How so? Do you find it difficult to imagine that Dirge, the Untouchable, might also have desires?"

For a moment Starscream was sure Scavenger was about to keel over, but then he came barreling up the steps instead, his fists swinging.

"You _knew!"_ Scavenger snarled, seizing Dirge by the shoulders. "You knew he was just using you, yet you dragged me into this anyway! You're risking both our lives, and for what? He's _dead!_ He doesn't care!"

"No I'm not!" Starscream retorted. "I'm right here, you dolt! That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"He probably never cared about anyone in his whole life," Scavenger ranted on, his tone bitter. "He was using us both, like he uses everyone. He was nothing but a—"

"Shut! Up!" Starscream yelled, thrusting his face into Scavenger's so he couldn't possibly be ignored. "I! Am not! Dead! And I can hear every word that comes out of your cretinous face-hole!"

Scavenger broke off with a squeak. For a single, spark-stopping moment, Starscream thought he'd gotten through. That Scavenger had actually deigned to notice his presence. But then he realized Scavenger wasn't looking at him; he was staring at the pile of ashes, his optics widening in blank horror.

"Oh… _Primus."_ Scavenger slumped forward with a gurgle. Dirge caught his arms and led him around the ashes, hurriedly guiding him to the edge of the platform. 

"Here." Dirge helped Scavenger brace himself against one of the pillars. "Lean against this."

Scavenger hiccuped. "Think I'm gonna…"

"Go ahead," Dirge encouraged.

Scavenger doubled over, retching, and Starscream turned away with a wince.

"Do you see now?" Graywing asked, his tone infuriatingly sympathetic. 

Starscream glared. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"That there is no further need for you to linger. A new life awaits. There are worlds to discover; old friends eager to greet you. Perhaps even the family you never knew. Come with me, and know peace."

Graywing's voice had changed, taking on a deeper, more resonant timbre, as if other, unseen voices were speaking through him. The old mech's frame had straightened and he looked younger, his face symmetrical and his broken wing now healed. A misty radiance surrounded him like a halo, and he was now flanked by the shadowy forms of two other Seekers. Graywing's Trine, Starscream guessed. The thought of his own Trine brought an undeniable surge of longing. Would they be there to greet him too?

"They will," Graywing said softly, as if plucking Starscream's thought from the very air between them. "Your Trine are very close by, even now."

"But…" No. Skywarp and Thundercracker would hate Starscream for what he'd done. He'd abandoned them, and he deserved to be abandoned in return. He deserved—

He turned away. With the light behind him, his shadow was an inky spill of angular darkness. "What I _see,"_ he ground out, staring at the spot where his shadow fell across the fragmented remains, "is that everyone's convinced this _thing_ is me. But I've yet to witness compelling proof that this is anything more than…"

A rattling, pinging sound brought him up short, and he saw that Dirge and Scavenger were now using small, shovel-like tools to scoop pieces of the remains into the waiting urn.

"A dream," Starscream finished, sweeping his wings back. Because there was absolutely no way Dirge and Scavenger could have moved without his noticing. Scavenger had been retching; now he seemed utterly absorbed in his grisly task, as if he'd been doing it for hours. Not only that, but the light had shifted thanks to the… head… having risen higher in the sky, its dim glow bleaching his shadow to a wisp of what it had been a moment earlier.

All clear evidence that this was a dream. A terrible dream, one that he couldn't seem to wake up from, but a dream nonetheless. But then Scavenger's trowel clanged against something solid, and Starscream glanced over in time to see him lift a blackened lump of metal from the ash-heap. A lump which could have been mistaken for any other fragment in the pile, except…

"No…!"

The word broke from Starscream in a wounded keen. His hands were already reaching for the lump when he remembered, too late, what was likely to happen. His fingers slipped through the lump, the trowel, and—horrifyingly—Scavenger's own hand as Scavenger calmly transferred his burden to the urn. The object tumbled over the rim and vanished with a stark clank of finality. Starscream stared at the urn, his thoughts in jangling disarray. That was _not_ what it had looked like. Couldn't have been. Because—

"NO!"

The phase-shifter had been on his workbench, where he normally kept it. He'd grabbed it on his way to the coronation, tucking it in his subspace where it would be safe from prying optics. It had been almost an afterthought, but he'd wanted it with him. Even if Skyfire couldn't be, this one little piece of their former life was there to anchor him. To keep him steady. To remind him. Not only of their past, but also the future they were fighting for. A future that had just slipped through his fingers like water.

Starscream gazed at his hands. His arms felt perfectly solid as he drew them around himself. He was shuddering to his wingtips, flight engines racing in a pointless instinct to flee. To fly as far and fast as he could in the hope that he might outrun this. Outmaneuver it. Make it untrue with nothing more than the sheer force of his will.

"This proves nothing!" he snarled at Graywing. "Nothing! It's here because I dreamed it—and why wouldn't I? It was part of my coronation!"

It hadn't been, really. At least not officially, but… could it have fallen from his subspace? Perhaps in his haste, he'd forgotten to secure his subspace using the proper algorithms. Maybe the locking seals had malfunctioned, or simply broken when he'd… he'd… 

His gaze strayed toward the corpse, only to find it gone. Utterly gone. The pavement had been swept clean, leaving no trace of the body, nor of the two gravediggers. 

"Where—" Starscream glanced around frantically and caught sight of Dirge and Scavenger trudging away. Dirge was in the lead, limping along with the same determined air as before, while Scavenger scuttled behind him, clutching the urn to his chest. "Hey!" Starscream bounded down the steps after them. "Where are you going with that?"

It was, of course, quite obvious where they were going. Their plodding steps were taking them to the shadowy recess beyond the podium, and the Crypt entrance that lay hidden there. Once upon a time, the Hall of Heroes had been regarded as a gate to the underworld, at least for those who believed in such things. Funerals had been held here before it had been taken over as a site for stately pageant. The old Crypt entrance which had once welcomed the dead was now a utility shaft, but it still led almost directly to the Grand Atrium, where an eternal flame marked the resting place of fallen Decepticons. Starscream knew all of this quite well; he'd been spending far too much time down there lately.

"Strange," Graywing remarked, his lengthened strides now matching Starscream's with ease. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you _cared_ what happened to… how did you put it? That disgusting pile of rubbish."

Starscream swung his rifle toward Graywing's chest, dead-center to the Autobot insignia. "Shut up right now, or I _will_ shoot you!"

Graywing offered a sad smile, and faded away like smoke. Fragging dreams. Starscream sent a few blasts through the spot where his former mentor had been standing, but the satisfaction was short-lived. When he turned to continue following Scavenger and Dirge, he found that they were gone. 

He was in the Hall of Heroes alone, and the stars were going out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Some of you might recognize Dirge and Scavenger's commentary from my story [Keepsake of My Starless Beloved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116271), in which a lovelorn Scavenger is forced to confront some painful truths about the nature of his former relationship with Starscream. Their conversation makes a lot more sense if you read it in 'Keepsake,' because here, Starscream keeps jumping forward in time and missing parts of it. So if you're curious to read all the gossipy goodness, do check out "Keepsake." (Of the stories I've written for this fandom, it's still one of my favorites. :-)


	10. The Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The medic's laser-blue gaze refocused on Skyfire. "What about you?" he asked. "How long has it been since _your_ bondmate passed?"

"Hey—where do you think you're going with _that?"_ the guard demanded, moving hastily to block Skyfire's path into the triage unit. "That's a Decepticon!"

"Yes," Skyfire agreed, glancing at the inert form in his arms. The Seeker hadn't moved or tried to speak since they'd pulled her from the derelict vessel. Her condition had worsened during the short flight to Elita One's triage ship, her spark-pulse having faded to little more than a weak flutter. "We found her in the debris-field. She needs to be seen right away."

"Oh yeah?" The guard's expression hardened. "Let's take a look, then."

Skyfire exchanged glances with Cosmos, who shrugged. Skyfire crouched, taking care not to jostle his burden, and lowered her far enough for the guard to look her over. She was purple and teal, with gray accents. Or would have been, if she wasn't covered in a crusted film of drying energon. 

"I don't see much wrong with her," the guard said with a snort, stepping back. "That fuel she's covered in probably came from an Autobot."

"Her life signs are fading," Skyfire pointed out, though he had to admit that the Seeker's frame showed few outward signs of damage. It seemed likely that most of the spilled fuel had indeed belonged to someone else, though Skyfire's money was on the dead Seeker he'd discovered on the derelict vessel's bridge.

"Are they, now?" The guard rocked back on his heels, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Isn't that just a shame. But tell you what, 'Con-lover. If you're so damn fond of our enemies, maybe you should _wing_ your way on over to Kaon with her, and let the ‘Cons take care of their own."

"She doesn't have time for that!" Skyfire exploded. "She'll die before we can even get her there, and with the damage Kaon took, I doubt there's anyone alive there who'd be able to treat her."

"You're breakin' my spark, flyboy."

"We've been bringing in Decepticon casualties all day," Cosmos informed the guard. "No one's tried to block access. A secure area's been set up for them in section 11-B."

"That a fact?" The guard cocked a brow-ridge. "First I've heard of it."

"Maybe you should update your software," Cosmos suggested. "This is by orders of the Prime."

The guard dropped his smirk, his expression darkening. "Our Prime is _dead,"_ he said flatly, "and if you think I'm going to be taking orders from some hot-pink flamejob who thinks it's a good idea to bring _that_ diseased garbage into the triage unit, think again."

"Hot-pink flamejob?" Cosmos sounded appalled. "How can you say that about—"

"Cosmos." Skyfire gave him a warning nudge. Much as he shared Cosmos' frustration, antagonizing the guard wasn't going to help. To the guard he said, "I'd like to speak with a medic."

"Well, they're all kinda busy, see?" The guard transferred his scowl from Cosmos to Skyfire, and then to the motionless figure in Skyfire's arms. "They've got no time for Seeker trash. I'd say toss it back into space, where it belongs."

And there it was. This was more than just factional hatred, which Skyfire could have understood to some extent. It was also a deep-seated prejudice against fliers—and probably Seekers in particular—which he couldn't. What if this was Starscream? What if _he_ was the one dying in Skyfire's arms while they stood here arguing with a bigot? He swept his wings back in a gesture of menace and drew himself to his full height, towering over the guard. 

"She's a sentient being," he said coldly. "One who needs our help. We Autobots are supposed to care about that kind of thing, or so I've been told." He took a step toward the guard, who took a corresponding step back. "Let us through," Skyfire commanded, "or I'm going to move you out of the way myself."

Cosmos' warning shout came an instant too late. The guard had already cocked his weapon, and was aiming it at the unconscious Seeker.

"Bring it on," he drawled, stroking the trigger. "And if you think I won't use this, think again."

The weapon hummed to life, its power cylinders emitting an ominous glow.

"Whoa, easy," Cosmos said, stepping in front of Skyfire as if trying to shield him with his diminutive frame. "Let's just call the head of security, and—"

"Pardon me," a new voice cut in. "I thought I heard someone call for a medic."

A rangy, orange-and-white mech had stepped from the doorway behind the guard. He looked half-Praxian, though the other half was very much Seeker. His triangular wings bore medical insignia, and an Autobot insignia was blazoned at the center of his chest.

"Doctor," The guard acknowledged, deflating noticeably. "I was just, uh…"

The medic cocked a brow-ridge. "I can see perfectly well what you were doing. You were helping two members of our rescue crew bring an injured survivor into the medical facility. Isn't that right?" His light tone carried a steely undercurrent, and the toothy saw-blade on his right arm whirred idly as he spoke.

The guard snapped to attention. "Of course! Um…" He glanced at Skyfire. "If you'll just step this wa—"

"I'll have a look at her right here," the medic interrupted as he shouldered past the guard, 'accidentally' jabbing him with the sharp edge of a wing. To Skyfire, he said, "Bring her down to my level, would you?"

Skyfire knelt, weak with relief, and watched anxiously as the medic ran a scanner over the still form in his arms. The medic said nothing. After a moment he put the scanner away and tapped a button on his communications cuff.

"Critical spark-shock, incoming," he said. "I need a team at the front, stat. Standard stabilization procedures." To Skyfire, he added, "You got her here in time, but only just."

A pair of attendants dashed from the triage unit with an antigrav medical sled hovering between them. "We'll take it from here," one of them said briskly, reaching for the motionless body. Skyfire found himself reluctant to let her go, but the attendants moved her to the sled with nimble efficiency and hooked her into its life-support apparatus.

"Enact Level-6 cushioning protocols, and get her inside," the winged medic instructed. "I'll be with you in a moment." He turned to Skyfire. "Do you happen to know who she lost?"

"There was a dead Seeker on the ship where we found her," Skyfire answered. "Maybe him?"

"Could be," the medic agreed. "It would be helpful to know something of their relationship; whether he was Trine, a mate, a parent, a kinsmech… it would give us an idea of the kind of bond we're dealing with."

"I'm sorry," Skyfire said. "I don't even know her name."

"That's fine. You've saved her life either way." 

"So you can help her?" Skyfire asked, watching as the attendants hurried off with the sled suspended between them. This was like Chromia all over again, he thought, remembering his shock at seeing Elita One's formidable second-in-command lying helpless and still, the intermittent beeping of her support monitors serving as the sole indication that she was still alive.

"Obviously," the medic replied, snapping his wings in annoyance. "I'm _only_ the greatest doctor ever sparked." He paused, his laser-blue gaze refocusing on Skyfire. "What about you?" he asked. "How long has it been since _your_ bondmate passed?"

Skyfire tensed. "My… I'm not," he stammered. "I mean, I don't—"

"Bondmate?" Cosmos was staring at him. It suddenly felt as if _everyone_ was staring at him. "Skyfire," Cosmos murmured, "I am sorry, old friend. No wonder you've been acting strangely. If I'd known—"

"I'm not bonded! And I'm not acting strangely!" Skyfire spun on his heel and strode for the docking bay through which he and Cosmos had entered the ship. "I just… need to get back out there," he added with an apologetic backward glance, feeling that he owed Cosmos at least the appearance of an explanation.

"I can't authorize that," the medic said, his tone steady and commanding. "I think we need to take a look at you."

"I don't need your authorization!" Skyfire could hear the rising frustration in his own voice. He tried to rein it in, reminding himself that he was twice the size of anyone else here. He didn't want to frighten anyone. "I need to get back into the debris-field," he added, forcing calm. "There might be other survivors in need of rescue."

Like Starscream. Starscream _was_ out there, somewhere. Skyfire could feel the pull on his spark, and he needed to find him.

"I just need to take a look," the medic said, his tone soothing. "If I don't find any abnormalities, I'll send you on your way."

A second pair of attendants materialized on either side of Skyfire and took hold of his arms. "Don't worry," one of them said as they pulled him back toward the triage unit. "Pharma really is the best where it comes to fliers."

"I heard that," the winged medic said over his shoulder as he stalked ahead of them into the triage unit. "I'll have you know that I'm not _only_ the best where it comes to fliers; I'm the best there is! Period."

Skyfire stared after him. _Pharma._ Where had he heard that name before? But then it all came rushing back. _I'd like to refer you to a colleague of mine,_ he remembered First Aid saying. _He's forgotten more about spark-medicine than most medics will ever know._

"Um, thank you for your concern," Skyfire said hastily, trying to pry his arms free without inadvertently damaging either of the attendants. "I really am fine, though. I just need to get back out there."

"You are _not_ fine!" Cosmos retorted. "You've been wandering off alone, and taking stupid risks!"

"Has he?" Pharma inquired. "Can you elaborate?"

"He boarded a Decepticon ship by himself, instead of calling for backup."

"If we hadn't gone in," Skyfire pointed out, "that Seeker would have died."

"Sure, but you should have called before you went in!" Cosmos snapped. "I spent more time out there looking for _you_ than I actually spent searching for survivors! That is not like the Skyfire I know."

"Because you don't know me as well as you think!" Skyfire shot back. He regretted those words the moment they'd passed his lips, but it was too late. 

Cosmos recoiled as if he'd been struck. "Skyfire," he breathed, his voice choked with emotion. "You don't mean—"

"He doesn't," Pharma cut in. "Well, probably not, though I don't know your relationship. But I _do_ think I'm getting the picture."

He seized Skyfire's arm and spun him around with stunning force, pulling him off balance. A firm shove to Skyfire's chest sent him stumbling back against what turned out to be an exam table. Skyfire sat down heavily and found himself staring at the business end of Pharma's medical scanner.

"I'm all right!" he insisted. "Just—"

"You are very much not all right." Pharma threw a glance at Cosmos, who was still gaping at Skyfire with the expression of a mech who'd just been gutted. "Please give us some privacy," Pharma ordered. "The two of you can work out your issues later."

Cosmos blinked. An attendant swooped in and caught his arm. "You can wait outside," she told him, guiding him toward the entrance. Cosmos left with a final backward glance that made Skyfire wince. 

"It's not unusual to behave uncharacteristically under these circumstances," Pharma said calmly, his gaze never leaving his scanner. "I'm guessing your bondmate had a sharp manner of speaking to others?"

Skyfire glanced up in shock. Pharma smiled as if he'd scored a point. 

"Thought so. How long _has_ it been since your bondmate passed?"

"He—" Skyfire bit the sentence short. "I've never had a bondmate."

"Your spark says otherwise." Pharma tilted the scanner so that its readout was visible, though Skyfire wouldn't have been able to decipher it even if he'd wanted to. "What's your name?" Pharma asked. His tone had gentled by a degree.

"Skyfire," Skyfire said, turning his gaze back down to his hands.

"Okay, Skyfire, look. This is not my first rodeo. I've seen spark-shock in every permutation, and you, my friend, are textbook. Complete with rebound-resonance and bleed-through behaviors. I don't think you're in any immediate danger, but you should be hospitalized and closely monitored for the next orn—maybe two."

 _"Hospitalized?"_ Skyfire stared at him, numb panic rising in his chest. Pharma was the second medic to have diagnosed him with spark-shock in the past four days. It didn't make sense, and he didn't want it to. "This isn't what it looks like," he argued. "I had… an event, four days ago."

"Event? Describe it."

Skyfire did his best, taking care to avoid any detail that might implicate Starscream.

"So you can still feel the bond," Pharma said, when Skyfire had finished. It was a statement more than a question, and Skyfire answered with a hesitant nod.

"That's why it can't be… what you think it is," Skyfire said, his hand rising to his chest. He could feel it even now, throbbing beneath his fingers. Calling to him. 

"Not necessarily," Pharma replied. "Have you ever heard of a phantom limb?"

Skyfire shook his head.

"It happens when a body-part has been severed. The neural relays continue to provide information about the missing component, and it can feel as if it's still attached."

"That's not the same as—" Skyfire broke off at the sound of a voice. 

Starscream's voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was anyone able to guess the identity of the Seeker whom Skyfire and Cosmos rescued? (I'm guessing it's _fairly_ obvious, but I could be wrong about that.)


	11. The Crypt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream turned in a circle, weapon raised. "What _now?"_ he demanded. The cavernous hall swallowed his voice, and he knew, with spark-twisting certainty, precisely where he was.

One by one, the stars above Kaon were going out. They dissolved into the blackness of space, and the blackness itself began to flatten. No longer was it the wild, limitless dark that had always beckoned to Starscream, whispering promises of adventure. It was more like a painted sky now. No; it wasn't a sky at all. It was more like… a ceiling. In fact it _was_ a ceiling. A high, vaulted ceiling, illuminated by flickering torchlight.

Starscream turned in a circle, weapon raised. "What _now?"_ he demanded. The cavernous hall swallowed his voice, and he knew, with spark-twisting certainty, precisely where he was. 

"Fine," he snarled, stalking between the rows of statues. "I suppose I'm here to learn some kind of lesson, right? Well I'm not interested! Graywing, you can take your Lore and Honor and shove it up your…" He trailed off, staring at the tombs. And at one tomb in particular: the empty one.

The Crypt looked exactly as it had the day before his coronation, when he'd come down here to officiate the interment ceremony for those who had fallen. There was Megatron's statue on his left, and Thundercracker's just beyond it, and just beyond _that,_ the one that was supposed to be Skywarp's. Except it wasn't. 

He took a step closer, staring at the urn. It was sitting atop the empty tomb-marker just exactly as if someone had left it there while they went to fetch something in another room. It was _the_ urn. The one with his name on it. The one he'd seen Dirge and Scavenger fill with the remains of… of whoever that had been who'd died on his podium. And the phase-shifter. That would be in there, too.

Starscream circled the marker, studying the urn as he might a live explosive. Had the gravediggers left it here? Did they intend to return? What if the urn wasn't there when they got back? If there was some way he could prevent that dead thing from being buried with his name on it, he could… well, he wasn't sure what. It shouldn't even have mattered, considering none of this was really happening. Yet it did.

Reaching out, he gave the urn an experimental poke. His finger went right in, and he jerked it back with a hiss of disgust. What was the point of a container so insubstantial that you could stick your hand right through? Was it a force-field? If so, it was a highly specialized one. A force-field that worked in only one direction, say, or one that could admit certain types of matter while excluding others.

Starscream poked it again, more carefully this time. The urn's apparent surface felt like nothing. Like air. There was no variation in temperature, density, electrical fields, or any other factor he could think of. How was it holding on to its contents? He gave it another jab, and in doing so, accidentally bumped his elbow against the tomb-marker. That, at least, was solid. 

He pressed his hand against the marker, feeling its cool metallic surface beneath his palm. It was a relief to touch something solid. Something that behaved the way matter was supposed to behave. As a point of comparison, Starscream placed his other hand on the urn, or where its surface appeared to be. 

"Uh, 'Scream? What are you doing?"

The voice from behind brought Starscream spinning around, rifle raised. "Thundercracker?"

"Whoa, power down there!" Thundercracker said, raising his hands in a warding gesture. "You really don't wanna fire that thing." 

"Don't I, now?" Starscream studied his former Trinemate. Thundercracker looked… good. _Too_ good. He was certainly a far cry from the half-dead wreck he'd been when the Decepticons had voted to lighten Astrotrain's load by tossing their injured into space. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" Thundercracker sounded bemused. "Don't you think it makes sense that I'd be here? Considering." He nodded toward the statue that bore his name. 

Starscream glared. "Am I supposed to believe that you're _actually_ who you appear to be? Because I don't."

"Oh, you probably think I'm a hologram, right? Or that you're dreaming."

Starscream opened his mouth, closed it again, and scowled at him.

Thundercracker smirked. "Thought so. Which is fine. You can think I'm a dream all you like, but I need to have a chat with you."

Starscream tensed. "What about?" Though of course, he knew. "It wasn't my fault!" he flared. "There was a vote, and your side lost. What other choice did I have?"

"Um…" Thundercracker gave him a look of perplexity. "That wasn't what I was gonna say, but—really? You _called_ that vote. It was your decision from the get-go, so what d'you mean, you didn't have a choice?"

"You don't understand! You're my Trine. I couldn't make an exception just for you, could I?"

"Didn't seem like you particularly wanted to," Thundercracker observed. "Not as far as I could tell."

"Oh, please!" Starscream began to pace. "You make it sound like I was sending you to your deaths on purpose."

Thundercracker's expression darkened. "You make it sound like you didn't."

"Of course I didn't! You weren't supposed to _die_ out there! If anything, I thought you'd be safer in space than you would have been on Cybertron!"

"Skywarp left ninety percent of his fuel on the battlefield. What did you _think_ was gonna happen out there?"

"I didn't—" Starscream broke off as an image of those final moments replayed in his memory. Had he even noticed Skywarp's condition? He couldn't remember. "I didn't know," he concluded. It was as close to an apology as he planned to give.

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda asked."

"Maybe _you_ should have said something!"

"What should I have said? The whole point was that you were tossing injured people into space! Maybe if you hadn't been so fixated on getting rid of Megatron, you might have noticed for yourself. But you just said we'd be better off out there," Thundercracker added, giving Starscream a shrewd look. "What's that supposed to mean? Better off from what?"

"I thought—" Starscream stopped himself. Should he mention the Incursion? Did it matter, since this conversation wasn't really happening? "I was going to come back for you," he said, deciding that it did matter. "I sent out a search team, but they didn't find anything. You can't blame me for that! I did what I had to, and it's not my fault things turned out the way they did!"

Thundercracker's gaze narrowed. "You _knew._ Didn't you?"

"Knew what? What are you talking about?"

"You knew what was out there. You knew it was heading for Cybertron, didn't you?"

"I—" Starscream stared at his Trinemate. 

Thundercracker crossed his arms. "You knew about Unicron," he said flatly.

"Unicron?" Starscream heaped the word with all the scorn he could muster, though the final syllable emerged with a telltale quaver. Hadn't Graywing said something about Megatron and the others encountering Unicron as they drifted in space? That couldn't be true, of course, but— "Unicron isn't real!" he sputtered, wishing he sounded like he believed it. Try as he might, he couldn't banish his memory of that giant head with its terrible, blank stare. But this was all part of that same awful dream, the one he desperately needed to wake up from. Why couldn't he?

The quiet hiss of a door opening drew his attention to the far end of the gallery, where a well-hidden lift was sliding open. Dirge stepped from within, his limp even more pronounced than it had been earlier. Scavenger followed, carrying two large, tarp-shrouded packages in his arms. Starscream could easily guess where they'd just come from, since the Crypt Master's private workshop was directly below this chamber. 

The lift doors stayed open a beat longer than expected, and a third figure emerged, or possibly materialized, from its shadows.

"Skywarp?" Starscream gaped as his other Trinemate strolled from the lift.

"Heya, 'Scream." Skywarp raised his arm in a casual wave. "Sure wasn't expecting to see _you_ again quite so soon."

"Likewise I'm sure," Starscream muttered sourly, glancing back and forth between the pair. They both looked as if they'd just spent several weeks in intensive maintenance. Or… no. Actually, they looked incredibly _young._ Their armor gleamed in the torchlight, and there was a certain ease in the way they carried themselves, as if the chronic tension wrought by eons of fighting had simply evaporated.

Thundercracker shifted, clearing his throat. "Did you, ah, find it?"

"My marker? Oh, yeah!" Skywarp skipped over to them, beaming. "It's pretty cool. It's a couple levels down. I recognized it right away 'cause Dirge had me holding a slingshot. I didn't even know he _knew_ about that slingshot!"

"Maybe someone told him," Starscream put in.

"You?" Skywarp's grin widened. "Wow, Starscream, thanks! You're the best Trinemate ever. I'm so glad we're all gonna be together again. And you—" he gave Thundercracker a mock frown. "Not cool, starting without me."

"Sorry, I uh… got lost," Thundercracker said. "And then I happened to run into Screamer, here, and…" He paused, giving Starscream a meaningful look. "You didn't miss anything."

"No?" Skywarp sounded as if he didn't quite buy it, but before he could say anything else, Scavenger walked through him. "Yikes!" Skywarp teleported to the top of the blank marker, staring at Scavenger in shock. "That was bizarro," he muttered, rubbing his arms as if to reassure himself that they were solid. "I'm not phasing, am I?"

"No," Thundercracker replied. "It's just 'cause of…" he raised a hand, waving at their general surroundings. "You know."

"Oh, right." Skywarp rapped his knuckles against the top of the marker. "This seems solid, though. And we can walk on the floor without sinkin' through. Weird, huh?"

"Please unwrap the legs and set them on top," Dirge said, pointing to where Skywarp was sitting. "We will not weld them in place just yet, as I may need to adjust their positioning once we add the other pieces."

Scavenger shuffled over to the marker, and Skywarp teleported to Thundercracker's side. "They can't see us, right?"

"Yeah, I don't think so," Thundercracker murmured, absently reaching to massage the cables at the back of Skywarp's neck. Dirge stepped deftly around them both, even ducking his conical helm to avoid Thundercracker's rifle. 

_"He_ can see us!" Starscream pointed at the Crypt Master. "Hey! Dirge! We know you know we're here, so why don't y—" He broke off as Skywarp seized his arm.

"Ah, who cares," Skywarp said, hauling him into what was apparently meant to be a three-way hug. "We're together again, that's the main…" he trailed off as Starscream and Thundercracker recoiled in unison. Skywarp's expression clouded. "What's goin' on? Something _did_ happen, didn't it? What were you talkin' about before I got here?"

His accusatory tone was directed at them both, but mainly at Thundercracker.

"It looks weird," Scavenger announced. He took a backward step, forcing all three Seekers to scuttle out of his way, and frowned critically at the tomb-marker, which now boasted a pair of disembodied legs.

"Does, kinda," Thundercracker agreed. "Where's the rest of the statue?"

"Downstairs," Skywarp explained. "They're casting some new pieces for it. Dirge did a last-minute redesign."

"How come?" 

"He said something about memorializing Starscream 'in a manner that befits his complexity.'" Skywarp shrugged. "Whatever that means."

 _Memorializing._

Starscream watched as Dirge, with shaking hands, reached for the urn. He was taking it down from the tomb-marker, and Starscream suddenly knew what was about to happen. It was the one thing that _hadn't_ happened during the interment ceremony, due to the fact that there'd been no bodies to bury. But now there was a body. A body that Dirge believed to be Starscream's.

"That isn't me!" Starscream cried, lunging toward him. He made a grab for the urn, but Scavenger's blunt, heavy hands were suddenly in his way.

"Is it okay if I do it?" Scavenger asked.

"Certainly not!" Starscream snapped, but Scavenger hadn't been asking him. Dirge simply nodded, and handed the urn to Scavenger with an air of relief. Scavenger cradled it in his arms for a moment and then, with unexpected reverence, stooped down and eased the urn into the tomb-marker's waiting receptacle.

"You can't bury that thing as if it's me!" Starscream shrilled. "It isn't! It can't be, because—"

A soft click interrupted him, and he saw that Dirge and Scavenger had moved once again. A disk-shaped censer had appeared atop the marker, and Scavenger was setting spark to a reddish powder that was obviously incense. The censer glowed dull orange as a pungent, resinous smoke began to rise.

"As this spark is transformed, rising in the form of smoke," Dirge intoned, "so the spark of our comrade will be purified in order to rise and join with the All. May Primus guard his crossing."

"Oh, for frag's sake." Starscream had never had any patience for this sort of thing, especially when talk of gods was involved. If he couldn't prevent this farce, he'd simply have to leave. He spun on his heel, striding for the large set of doors that led to the Grand Atrium. 

Skywarp popped in front of him. "Hey, where are you going? You can't leave! You'll miss the good part."

"What good part?" Starscream growled, stepping around him. The doors were standing open, and he could see the Grand Atrium with its solemn ring of statues and the great, eternal flame burning at its center. The utility shaft could be accessed through a storage area just off the Atrium. Within moments, he'd be back on the surface. Back in the Hall of Heroes, in fact. 

"They're gonna open the gate for you," Skywarp explained. "You'll be able to cross over and join us! It'll be so much fun. We'll go flying together, and…" he trailed off as a low, throbbing resonance welled up from the floor. "Whoa. Can you hear that?"

"How could I not?"

Starscream knew that sound. Dirge was using his Sigma ability, which caused those within hearing range of his engines to become paralyzed by despair. It had never affected Starscream. He'd always been able to shrug off its effects, except now…

Now, he found himself turning back toward the source of the sound, which was gathering power as it rose all around him. His spark quivered, yearning toward the music like a moth toward a lantern. He wasn't the least bit surprised to find himself suddenly back in front of the tomb-marker, which was now surrounded by a wall of green flame. And within those flames, something was opening. 

It really did look like a gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Some of you might recognize Dirge and Scavenger's role from [Keepsake of My Starless Beloved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116271), in which Dirge risks the ire of Galvatron in order to make sure Starscream gets a decent burial.


	12. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Megatron!" Starscream sounded shocked, bewildered. "Is that… _you?"_ A burst of uproarious laughter followed this question, and Skyfire realized that he'd been listening to a recording.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter involves mockery of someone's death, which could be upsetting for some readers.

Skyfire listened, transfixed.

This was impossible. Starscream couldn't be _here,_ could he? Had someone found him in the debris-field and brought him in? A rush of protectiveness brought Skyfire to his feet. Ignoring Pharma's protests, he hurried in the direction of the voice, which seemed to be coming from outside the triage unit. As Skyfire reached the doors a team of medics rushed in, pushing a prone figure on an antigrav sled. 

It wasn't Starscream. Skyfire glimpsed yellow-and-green armor, along with a great deal of energon as the sled whisked past him and medics swarmed to deal with this new emergency. The guard who'd given him trouble before now barely glanced up as Skyfire strode past, and Skyfire paid no heed to him, either. His full attention was attuned to what he thought he'd heard just a moment earlier. That voice.

"Skyfire?" It was Cosmos. He looked as if he'd been waiting outside the doors. "Are you all right? What did the doctor say?"

"I'm fine," Skyfire heard himself reply, his voice a flat monotone. Cosmos began to say something else, but Skyfire shook his head, motioning for silence. Had he been imagining things? But then heard it again. The voice was faint with distance, but it was definitely there, registering in his audials as a real sound. A sound that was unmistakably _Starscream._

"Fellow Decepticons!" Starscream was saying. "As your new leader, I—"

The voice broke off, as if something had interrupted it. "Excuse me," Skyfire said to Cosmos. "I need to go."

The voice had seemed to come from a side-corridor adjoining the triage unit's entrance. Skyfire headed in that direction, walking as fast as he dared. He got a few curious glances from the medical staff in the corridor, and half expected one of them to try and stop him, but none did. Perhaps they'd spotted the tag identifying him as a member of the rescue crew, or maybe they'd only noticed him due to his height.

"Who disrupts my coronation?" the voice was demanding. 

It had come from a doorway at the far end of the corridor. Skyfire broke into a run, arriving at the doorway just as a second voice replied:

"Coronation, Starscream? This is bad comedy!"

Skyfire froze. He'd never heard the second voice before, and yet it was chillingly familiar.

"Megatron!" Starscream sounded shocked, bewildered. "Is that… _you?"_

A burst of uproarious laughter followed this question, and Skyfire realized that he'd been listening to a recording. The laughter was much closer and more immediate than either Starscream's voice or that of the person he'd called Megatron.

"Here's a hint!" that second voice barked. Transformation noises followed, and then… a sound that was like laserfire, but worse. So much worse. A harsh, violet-white radiance spilled from the doorway, casting twisted shadows across the floor at Skyfire's feet. He crept forward, legs moving of their own volition, and found himself gazing into what appeared to be a lounge. 

A group of Autobots were sprawled on and around one of the room's several couches, their gazes fixed on a large video screen. Skyfire stepped through the doorway, but no one glanced up. Their gazes were locked on the screen, their features rapt. 

The light died, and there was a moment of suspension during which Skyfire was the only thing still moving. He heard a breaking sound, like rocks crumbling, and glimpsed the screen just in time to see the grayed-out form of a Seeker collapse into rubble.

A cheer went up. The Autobots were punching the air, stamping their feet, hollering like spectators at a sporting event. Powerglide propelled himself from the couch and did an aerial pirouette.

"Ding-dong, the witch is dead!" he shouted as he capered before the group. "Who wants to see it again?"

 _"Again?"_ This question came from the far side of the room, where Jazz sat alone at one of the tables, a set of datapads before him. "Some of us are trying to get work done."

"Aw, c'mon Jazz!" Warpath exclaimed, coming to Powerglide's defense. "Watchin' that sorry bastard get—boom! ka-pow!—blown to bits _never_ gets old."

"I could _definitely_ watch it all day," Cliffjumper declared, patting a spot on the couch next to him. "C'mon Jazz, take a load off. This is good for what ails ya."

"Doubt that," Jazz muttered, hunching over his work. "Besides, you _have_ been watching it all day."

"Don't listen to him," Sunstreaker said, arching in a catlike stretch. _"We_ want to see it again. Right, Sideswipe?" He nudged his brother with his foot.

"What… happened?" Skyfire asked, shocked by the sound of his own voice. Everyone turned, staring up at him as if they'd only just noticed the pale, winged figure towering in their midst.

"Skyfire!" Warpath half-rose, craning his neck to stare up at him. "Where've you been, mech? We missed you! And you missed so much of the—bam! pow!—good stuff!"

"And… uh, some pretty _bad_ things," Moonracer put in. She was on the couch, wedged between Cliffjumper and the Twins.

"Sure, but let's start him off with the _good_ news, huh?" Warpath gestured to the screen. "C'mon 'Glide! Roll the clip!"

Powerglide clicked the remote, and the image began to play in reverse. As if by magic, the smoking rubble rose into the air, reassembling itself into a gray figure which then vanished into a nimbus of light. Jagged fingers of energy spat from the body, painting the room with bursts of pallid incandescence. As the light faded, the figure's purple cloak mended itself and became new, falling in rich folds from the shoulders of…

"Starscream…"

The name left Skyfire in an anguished groan, while every other part of him—body, mind and spark—kept repeating _no, no, no…_

"Ex-zactly!" Powerglide enthused. "I _knew_ you'd wanna see this, especially considering your personal history with ol' Star-freak. Watch!"

The image paused on what was apparently the first frame of the clip, and there… oh, _Primus._

Starscream was standing on a podium, flanked by Thrust and Ramjet while Astrotrain stood before him, holding up a bright, golden object.

A… crown?

A cold, heavy feeling settled in Skyfire's chest. Astrotrain began lowering the crown to Starscream's helm, but froze at the sound of fanfare blaring from somewhere off-screen.

"Get on with the ceremony!" Starscream growled.

The fanfare paused, then started again almost immediately. Starscream raised an arm and fired a blast at something off-screen. The fanfare died, and Astrotrain placed the crown on Starscream's head. Starscream glanced up, gazing toward the camera, and for the briefest moment Skyfire felt as if their gazes met.

Skyfire wasn't sure what to make of this. Were all Decepticon leaders crowned? He'd never heard of such a practice, but then again, how often had they ever spoken of their respective factions' traditions? It had fallen through the cracks as one of those topics best avoided. But whatever the coronation signified, Starscream's expression was nothing like what Skyfire would have imagined at such a moment. 

He wasn't smirking. He didn't look triumphant, or even prideful. He looked… desolate. As if he'd just gotten everything he'd ever wanted, only to discover that it wasn't what he'd wanted at all.

 _Oh, Starscream._

Skyfire took a step toward the screen, hands rising with the ache of longing to reach out, but—the moment was gone in an instant. Starscream threw his shoulders back, raising his arm. "Fellow Decepticons!" he cried. "As your new leader, I—"

Whatever he'd been about to say was lost in the din of approaching engines. A dull roar filled Skyfire's audials as leaned toward the screen, body tensing in the futile impulse to leap to Starscream's defense, but he could only watch helplessly as Starscream engaged in a brief argument with someone off-screen. When the blast hit, Skyfire dimly noted that Starscream stood alone, his supporters having fled, leaving him to… to…

It was awful. Worse than anything Skyfire could have imagined. He watched Starscream twist away from the blast, fighting to escape the storm of energy that had already engulfed him. Time dragged, moments stretching to eternities as the inferno raged through Starscream's helpless frame. When it finally faded, he was still on his feet, his mouth shaping a silent scream while his stiffened hands raked the air in frozen anguish. The crown, grotesquely, was still on his head. Still golden, the brilliance of its gems undimmed. 

And his optics…

That was the worst. His optics were still alight, still red, their gaze fixed upon some hellish distance. Starscream had been conscious to the last. Had felt everything. As his body crumbled, something within Skyfire shattered with it. He stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance.

A squat, reddish form zipped into his path, hovering before him at chest height. "Put 'er there!" it crowed, raising a hand. 

_Powerglide,_ Skyfire's processor informed him, but it took a seeming age before he was able to connect the name to an understanding of what… who this creature was, or why it was making that strange gesture.

"It's like I always say," Powerglide went on, raising his tone as if to cover the awkward silence. "Even the darkest cloud has its silver lining."

Skyfire gaped. "What?"

"Oh, it's just an expression," Warpath said with a chuckle, sauntering up behind Skyfire. "He spends a lot of time around humans. But hey, 'Fire!" Warpath punched Skyfire's arm. "What did ya—boom! kazow!—think of those last words?"

"Classic," Powerglide chortled, and pitched his voice to a screeching falsetto as he added, "Megatron! Is that _you?"_

Cliffjumper sprang from the couch. "Here's a hint!" He pointed finger-guns at Powerglide. "Pew-pew!"

Powerglide shrieked as he went into a theatrical tailspin. "Ooooh, nooo!" he cried, clutching at his head. "My crown! My precioussss! It's going to get—" he hit the floor, landing with his feet sticking in the air "—dented!"

There was a scatter of applause. Powerglide curled at the waist in what might have been intended as a bow, then stuck his hand out toward Skyfire. Skyfire remained frozen, staring at the hand. Powerglide had landed next to his foot, and Skyfire's leg twitched with a sudden, appalling impulse to stamp on him. He took a stumbling backward step, horrified at himself. He didn't want to be thinking that about another Autobot. A… friend.

Sunstreaker swooped in, captured the extended hand, and hauled Powerglide to his feet. "That was nothin,'" he said, dusting the small flier off. "I could do a _way_ better impression."

"Nonsense!" Powerglide screeched, still in character. "That was _art,_ I tell you! Art!"

Sunstreaker pushed Powerglide toward his empty spot on the couch. "Take a seat, amateur! Get comfy and watch what a _true_ thespian can do."

"Wait!" Moonracer grabbed a cushion from the couch and bounded over to Sunstreaker. "Your crown, milord," she said, bowing deeply as she held it out to him.

Sunstreaker cleared his vocalizer, raising his voice to a high-pitched rasp as he replied, "Why thank you, my esteemed vassal!"

"What… _why_ are you… _doing_ this?"

Everyone froze, and it took Skyfire a moment to realize that he was the one who had asked the question. As they all turned to stare at him, he noticed that he'd moved in front of the screen, his wings flared in a hopeless impulse to protect what was left of Starscream from these… _people._ These strangers.

"Skyfire?" Jazz had risen and was moving toward him with slow, deliberate steps. "Put that away, Skyfire," Jazz said, his voice soothing. "You don't need that here."

"I…" 

_They know,_ Skyfire thought. Somehow, they knew. The truth must have been written on his face, or in his field. He could tell by the way they were all staring at him with their optics wide, their mouths open in shock. 

"Just drop the weapon," Jazz murmured. "You're safe here. It's all over; you're among friends."

Weapon? Skyfire glanced down, and realized he was holding his gun. He didn't remember taking it from his subspace. Was it this automatic for him now? To reach for a weapon when he found himself surrounded by—

No.

They weren't enemies. They were his friends. Jazz had _said_ so. "I'm sorry," he mumbled as he put the gun away, his hand shaking. "I—I have to go."

When he left the room, his only thought was to get away from them. He didn't trust himself right now. Didn't trust himself not to harm someone. He pictured himself slamming Megatron to the ice. Toppling the Reflectors with a swipe of his arm, like so many bowling pins. Blasting a tetrajet in the wing, and _liking_ it. Could he do that to his friends? 

Right now, he was afraid that maybe he could. It was best to stay as far away as possible. His strides quickened, gaining purpose as his legs carried him along the corridor, and within moments he was back in the medical ship's docking bay. Cosmos—and a pair of medical attendants—hurried to his side. 

"Skyfire!" Cosmos said. "I went back in and spoke to Doc Pharma. You should _not_ be running around like this."

"I'm fine," Skyfire said. "I can't talk right now."

"But—"

The bay doors were sliding open to admit another of the rescue teams. Skyfire glimpsed open space through the doorway, a thin slice of Cybertron's illuminated side hanging serene amid the debris-field. _Yes,_ he thought, taking a step toward it. That was where he was going. Where he needed to be. Where he'd find Starscream.

"Skyfire!" Cosmos broke into a trot, trying to match Skyfire's much longer strides. "If you are thinking of going out there, think again! The doctor said—"

"The doctor's wrong." They were _all_ wrong. Not just the doctor, but everyone, and what he'd seen on that screen hadn't been real. The insistent, yearning tug at the center of his chest assured him that it couldn't be. 

Cosmos ran in front of him. "Skyfire, wait! Just listen, okay? You're not—"

But Skyfire wasn't listening. He transformed, rising on his antigravs as he sailed over Cosmos' head and the heads of the two medics. The doors were closing. He fired his thrusters and rocketed toward them, angling his wings at the last moment in order to fit through. He shot out into space—and yes. There it was. 

The inner beacon was faint, but it was present. It was no mere phantom, and he was going to find his way back to its source no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... apologies to anyone who was upset by this chapter. It is a difficult scene, inspired by experiences I've had with people who found Starscream's death amusing. However, that was just the inspiration. These Autobots have been through a war, have just endured a series of devastating battles, and have seen many, many of their friends die in horrible ways. Much as it hurts my Starscream-loving heart, I think their reaction is only natural and pretty realistic under the circumstances. What are your thoughts?


	13. All Are One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream leaned out, inviting fragrant breezes to play across his face, and wondered: Did it matter how 'real' any of this was? Perhaps it was a dream, but if it was, it was a _good_ dream. Maybe all he wanted, all he'd ever _truly_ wanted, was this. To step through the gate and just… fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Dark Star of Chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDecepticon/) for last-minute beta support in getting this chapter off the ground!

Everything had faded from Starscream's awareness. He no longer heard the chanting, which had deepened to a reverberant drone that rattled his insides, nor did he pay any heed to Dirge or Scavenger, whose figures had become transparent and merged with the backdrop of green flames. He took a step toward the gate, then another. It had appeared on the very spot where the tomb-marker should have been, but it didn't occur to him to wonder where the marker had disappeared to. It all made perfect sense. Everything did, now.

The gate reminded him of the big, three-dimensional map of the galaxy that had once been housed at the astronomical library in Crystal City. It too was shaped like a vortex. As he drew closer, the gate unfolded as the map had done, revealing ever more detailed imagery, but unlike the map, the images were not of solar systems, quasars and nebulae; they were pictures of his life. 

There he was, on his podium. And there, he was casting Megatron's battered form into space. And then again there, he was leaning over a medical slab and aching to breathe life into the pale, prone form that lay upon it. And there, he was joining the Academy. And there he was a sparkling, investigating a new toy. And there… there was the vortex's core. A whirling kaleidoscope of shimmering data. 

With a trembling hand, Starscream reached toward it. The substance reacted to his touch, flowing over and around his fingers like a liquid. Emotions unfurled within his awareness like tiny electrical shocks. There was pride; but also humiliation. Love; but also grief. Desire; but also terror. 

Yet it was all _him._ He'd made it all. Every moment. Every frisson of joy, of pain, of triumph, of surrender. All of it belonged to him, and somehow it was all _good._ Even the parts he dreaded were perfect, in some ineffable way that his temporal mind could not understand. But there was a part of him that _did_ understand, and it was leading him forward, making him pine for… something. Something which lay on the far side of the vortex.

Someone jostled his arm. "Well? C'mon, 'Scream, let's go!"

The voice was… Starscream _knew_ that voice. Knew it well. Turning, he found Skywarp at his side. "Go?" Starscream echoed. His own voice was heavy and slurred, as if he was waking from sleep. "Go where?"

"To the other side!" Skywarp responded with a grin, bouncing on the tips of his pedes. "It's amazing over there! I can't wait to show you around. You won't believe—"

"'Warp," a second voice said. That was Thundercracker; he'd taken hold of Skywarp's hand and was gently tugging him away from the vortex. "This isn't for us; it's his crossing. We've had ours, remember?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Give the mech some privacy."

Skywarp pouted, but began to retreat. 

"Wait," Starscream called after him. "I don't understand. What _is_ this thing?"

"It's…" Skywarp paused, exchanging glances with Thundercracker. "It's the Way."

"The _way?_ The way to what?"

"Way home." Skywarp was edging forward again; Thundercracker pulled him back.

"Home? What home?" Starscream pressed. "What are you talking about?"

Thundercracker shook his head. "It's different for everyone. You'll have to see it for yourself."

Starscream was about to demand they talk sense, but some nameless instinct drew his attention back to the vortex. Its center was opening like a flower, and beyond it…

_Oh._

There was sky beyond the doorway; and not just any sky. The familiar constellations of so very long ago shimmered against a deep indigo night. Below them, spread like a magical carpet, was Cybertron in the full splendor of its fabled Golden Age. Starscream leaned toward it without thinking. 

"What… what am I looking at?" he asked in a whisper.

"We can't tell you," Thundercracker replied. "Like I said, it's different for everyone, but basically it's where you go next."

He and Skywarp were several paces back, Thundercracker's arm stretched across Skywarp's chest in an attempt to restrain him. 

"It's like… your spark's desire," Skywarp added with a vigorous nod, peering eagerly over the top of the wing Thundercracker had placed between him and the vortex.

"My spark's _desire?"_ Starscream turned his gaze back toward the golden vista with its endless, star-filled sky. Things had been so different then. _He'd_ been different. He'd been… happy. An impossible sense of longing stirred in him, beckoning him toward the doorway.

But this couldn't be right. How often had he accused Skyfire of living in the past? Of loving who Starscream _had_ been, rather than who he was? Could it have been Starscream all along? Was _he_ the one who wanted to go back to some idealized version of the past?

Obviously not. If his spark _had_ desires, it would desire the things that _he_ desired. Something far grander than this. Something like ruling the universe. This… well. This was where he'd started from; it wasn't where he'd ever wanted to end up. 

He started to turn away, but just then, a trio of angular shapes rocketed past his window in the sky. Starscream recognized all three: they were a trine of Seekers from his old aerie. His wings flexed in sympathy as he watched them arc against the stars with easy grace, and he caught himself leaning forward, his own body aching to leap skyward.

* * *

Skyfire dropped from hyperspace, transformed, and glanced around, watchful for pursuers. There were none. No one had followed him from the medical ship, which was both good _and_ bad. Good, because he was now free to follow the urgings of his spark, and bad because his spark had led him _here._ To Kaon, the Decepticon capital.

The city sprawled beneath him like a shattered corpse, its guts exposed. Buildings lay in shambles, uprooted from their foundations, and giant chasms lay open to the sky, bleeding greasy smoke like blackened energon. It was a scene of utter devastation and it looked uninhabited, though Skyfire knew better. Starscream was down there, somewhere, and Skyfire very much doubted that he was the only one.

He resumed his shuttle form, which had thicker armor than his mech form, and flew as high as he dared. Too high, and he risked tripping the planetary defense system, which the Autobots by now surely controlled. They might see the blip and assume he was a bit of flotsam falling from orbit, but then again, they might take a closer look. He needed to find Starscream before he was caught.

Skyfire didn't know his way around Kaon, yet somehow it didn't surprise him to find that his spark was leading him toward Darkmount. The pyramid-shaped fortress lay at the heart of the city, and was famously known as the seat of Megatron's regime. It had been subjected to a brutal attack. Something huge and sharp had slashed down on it from above, cleaving away nearly a third of its structure. It looked as abandoned as the rest of the city, but Skyfire slowed his flight anyway, scanning it for signs of life.

They were there all right, but they were somewhere deep within the fortress. Underground? That seemed more than likely. There was no doubt that Megatron's personal stronghold would extend many levels below Cybertron's surface. If there were Decepticons inside, Skyfire suspected they were keeping an extremely low profile. Was he going to have to invade the fortress and track them down? Skyfire didn't like his odds of success, but if Starscream was down _there,_ what choice did he have? He'd have to try.

To his relief, Skyfire found that the impetuous urgings of his spark were not summoning him to the pyramid, but to something beyond it. He banked, giving the fortress as wide a berth as possible. The massive artillery arrays flanking its sides were directed skyward, as if they'd been deployed to ward off an attack from above. Now they stood silent, their muzzles pointing at the stars, but Skyfire knew he wouldn't stand a chance if they swung into action. 

He glided past on silent wings, deactivating his engines to draw as little attention to himself as possible. A chill swept through him when he saw where he was going. The wedge-shaped hall, with its twin rows of towering statues, was all too recognizable. In the coronation footage there'd been a violet flame burning inside the base of each of the statues. Now they were dark, like the rest of the city. The podium at the hall's apex, however, looked exactly the same as it had on screen.

 _Here; yes here,_ his spark seemed to whisper, thrumming in his chest as he transformed. _This is the place._

Yet there was nothing to be seen. Skyfire settled on the deserted podium's top step and squeezed his optics shut, shoring up his resolve. But when he made himself look, there was nothing. No trace of ash, nor rubble. No sign of a crown, nor a richly woven cape. Not even a wisp of dust. 

He fell to his knees, running his hands over the paving tiles. They were clean. Perfectly smooth with no scorch-marks, no sign of buckling. Nothing to suggest the kind of heat that it would take to reduce a body to ash in mere seconds. 

Skyfire rocked back on his heels, staring at the pavement. _Here,_ his spark insisted. _Here, here._ This _was_ the spot. The place where Starscream could be found, yet it was deserted. Skyfire was utterly alone.

And then… he wasn't.

* * *

The trio of Seekers transformed. "Hey, Starscream!" their leader called. "We're gonna buzz the Spire! Wanna come?"

"Buzz the Spire?" Starscream looked at the horizon, and sure enough, there it was. He'd not thought of the Iacon Spire in a very long time. It had been one of the first major landmarks destroyed during the early days of the war, but when he'd been a young mech, it had been an irresistible target for mischievous Seekers.

"C'mon Screamer!" urged a second member of the trine. "What are you waiting for?" 

Their leader snorted. "He's probably too busy hanging out with his geek friends at the observatory."

"Ob…observatory?" Starscream glanced down. The dome-shaped building was directly below, perched atop its own spire. He spotted the walkway that ran along the exterior wall, offering a serene viewpoint from which to gaze upon any part of Vos. When Skyfire had become head of the astronomical division, he'd transformed that walkway into a garden, filling it with plant specimens that he'd gathered on his various expeditions.

As Starscream pictured that garden, it sprang to life; not just in his imagination, but also in reality. Beds of foliage appeared, their lush contents spilling across the walkway as if summoned into existence by an artist's brush, and he caught the scent of rich soils and the wafting perfumes of night-blooming flowers.

 _I enjoy taking care of things,_ he heard Skyfire say, and knew it was in response to a question he'd asked. A question that he'd asked so long ago that his memory-system had filed the contents of that conversation in the deepest archives of his processor. But he remembered it now. Remembered it as if it had been yesterday. He'd asked Skyfire why an exalted department head would waste so much of his time digging in the dirt.

Skyfire had lowered his thoughtful gaze to the tiny seedling he was transplanting. The memory was so crisp now, so unchanged by time that when Skyfire lifted his gaze once more, his smile growing shy, Starscream glimpsed his own younger reflection in Skyfire's optics.

 _I also enjoy beauty,_ Skyfire had added, a husky note entering his tone, and Starscream's vents caught; both in the memory, and now. 

The kaleidoscope of recollection shifted, images flowing together as he recalled another moment in that garden. Skyfire's astonished gaze was still velvet on his frame, the echo of their first kiss still reverberating in Starscream's mouth like a song.

That memory dissolved into another, and another. He could taste the colors, smell the sounds, his senses spilling into each other as he lost himself in a world that had once been his.

 _It can be again,_ said a voice.

A voice that was not Skyfire's, nor his own, but seemed to come from the world itself. It was as if the city, sky and stars were all part of an unimaginably vast intelligence, a mind so limitless that it defied comprehension. It should have terrified him, but it didn't. His spark surged at that voice, welcoming it, and he let it draw him to the very brink of the portal.

Starscream leaned out, inviting fragrant breezes to play across his face, and wondered: Did it matter how 'real' any of this was? Perhaps it was a dream, but if it was, it was a _good_ dream. Maybe all he wanted, all he'd ever _truly_ wanted, was this. To step through the gate and just… fly.

* * *

The first shot passed within a handspan of Skyfire's face, blasting a neat, round hole in the pavement he was crouching on. He froze, staring in blank incomprehension. When a second shot grazed his wing, he pivoted to face his attackers, weapon raised.

There were five of them. Flying mechs of a frametype he'd never seen before; all blue, all identical, and darting toward him in an attack formation.

"I'm not here to fight!" Skyfire shouted. "I'm looking for—"

Another blast zipped toward him, and he leaped out of its path as it carved a blackened gouge across the top of the podium. Clearly, these mechs were in no mood to talk. Skyfire ducked another blast and dove behind one of the pillars that surrounded the podium's summit, leaning around it to squeeze off a few shots of his own.

He wasn't shooting to kill—not yet, anyway—but he did clip one of the blue mechs. The flier crashed into a statue while his companions veered off, circling upward. They transformed, revealing batlike wings, and hovered in midair while appearing to confer with someone over comms.

Skyfire slipped from the rear of the podium, keeping the pillar between himself and his would-be attackers. He couldn't fight them all, nor did he particularly want to. He disliked fighting, and in any case these mechs might be under Starscream's command. The last thing Skyfire wanted was to attack Starscream's defenders.

"Starscream," he whispered, reaching with his spark. "Tell me how to find you."

A scrape of metal against metal brought him spinning around, and he saw that yet another flighted mech had stepped from the shadows behind him. This one was taller than the bat-winged fliers, his gaunt features stern as he raised his gun and aimed it at Skyfire's spark.

"Drop your weapon," he ordered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's been leaving comments on this story! You've all had such interesting perspectives, and I've really enjoyed reading and responding to all of them. Also, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! The scenes set in the Allspark have existed, in one form or another, for about six years, and it's so exciting to get them off my hard-drive and out into the world! I'd love to hear any thoughts you have to share. :-)


	14. Parting of Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream reeled, momentarily weightless, and everything around him slowed. The river of departing memories halted their exodus and hung suspended in the air around him. He stared at them in shock, wanting to grab them back to himself, but that was when he noticed the glow at the center of his chest growing brighter. It blazed like a tiny sunrise, until suddenly—impossibly—his spark popped free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to [Dark Star of Chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDecepticon/) for stepping in with last-minute beta services to help get this chapter across the finish line.

The glittering world sang to Starscream, whispering of splendors unimagined. Perhaps it wasn't real, but then again, did that matter? His spark was pulling him toward the doorway, toward the infinite sky beyond, and he was ready. Ready to go home. He tensed, preparing for the final leap—and that was when the vortex seized hold and began sucking him through.

* * *

Skyfire lowered his weapon. "I don't want to fight," he told the tall, gaunt Decepticon whose gun was still pointing at his spark. "I've come here to find Starscream."

"The usurper?" The Decepticon gave him an incredulous look. "To what end, Autobot?"

One of the bat-winged mechs, who were by now hovering above Skyfire, cackled mirthlessly. "You're a little late," he said, "but we'd be happy to send you to him!" He and his companions exchanged a round of coarse laughter, but fell silent when the gaunt mech shot them a glare.

"To what end?" the tall Decepticon repeated, his gun unwavering. 

"I… I have a message for him," Skyfire replied, provoking further snickers from above. _They think he's dead,_ he realized. These Decepticons had seen Starscream crumble into dust, just as Skyfire had, but unlike Skyfire, they had no reason to disbelieve it. 

_Starscream,_ he sent. _If you're here, I need your help now._

He hadn't truly expected a response. Not after days of failed attempts. So, the wordless scream that crashed through the bond took him utterly by surprise.

* * *

Starscream seized the edges of the doorway. His feet skidded, raising sparks as he dug his heels into the floor. He held on with both hands, fighting the relentless pull as the substance of his life streamed past him through the gate. Each memory appeared in a flash of searing brilliance as it crossed the threshold, sharp as lightning and gone just as quickly.

There was Skyfire crashing toward Earth, atmospheric friction lighting him up like a comet. There was Megatron in the gladiatorial ring, his boot crushing an opponent's throat. There was Kaon in flames, and Starscream's own crash on Earth, and awakening to find himself on _that_ world, the one that had taken Skyfire from him. And there, he was staring up the barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon, and there, he was finding Skyfire in the ice, and there—

"Stop!" Starscream wrenched himself from the doorway. He overbalanced and crashed to the floor, scrabbling away on hands and knees as he tried to snatch the memories back to himself. They continued to storm past, disappearing faster and faster as the vortex gobbled them up. 

His life, his most private moments, were being called forth and examined; evaluated by the vast, hungry intelligence beyond the doorway. The worst part was that something within him longed for this. His spark. It surged with exultant ferocity, hurling itself against the inner walls of his chest, and he yelped in shock as he began to slide back toward the doorway.

It shouldn't have been possible, but he was actually being dragged across the floor by the force of his own spark. He twisted until his legs were in front of him and planted both feet against the gate. Even bracing with his full strength, he found he was still being pulled toward the vortex. 

"No!" he sobbed, as his feet began to slip. "Please stop! Someone, make it stop!"

* * *

The bond detonated into pure white, blinding pain.

"Starscream!"

Skyfire doubled over. His hands flew to his chest, weapon slipping from his fingers. He was dimly aware of it striking the pavement, but his world had narrowed to a single, scorching point of anguish. He stumbled forward, yanked by the force within his chest and barreled into the tall Decepticon, sending him sprawling.

"Get him!" the Decepticon bellowed. 

Skyfire dodged and wove as laserbeams sliced past him. He was running blind, stumbling in the only direction that seemed to ease the agonizing pressure inside his chest. It was leading him toward a shadowy recess in the wall behind the podium.

"He's heading for the Crypt!" someone shouted. There was a generalized murmur of consternation, and the laserfire eased off as Skyfire flung himself into the alcove. He stumbled down a flight of steps and crashed against a set of doors. He pounced on the doors' locking mechanism, punching keys, though he didn't have much hope of guessing the combination. A shot grazed his thigh.

"After him, you superstitious fools!"

Skyfire glanced over his shoulder. The tall Decepticon, and apparent source of the shot, was hovering behind him in midair, the bat-winged mechs ranged menacingly on either side of him. Skyfire clenched his fists, forcing himself to watch—and wait.

"Fire!" the tall Decepticon ordered.

They all fired at once, and a shot clipped the upper edge of one of Skyfire's wings as he hurled himself down onto the steps. There was an explosion from somewhere behind. Sparks rained down, falling in slow motion as Skyfire twisted around, straining for a glimpse of the doors. The locking mechanism had been reduced to a smoking ruin. 

Skyfire kicked, hard. The lock crumbled and he launched himself at the doors, wrenching them open. A laserbeam followed him, slicing open his shoulder as he tumbled into the darkness beyond. He was aboard an ancient freight elevator. His spark sank as he noted the coded control panel. These controls would not succumb to brute force, and without the correct code to get the lift moving, he was as good as trapped. He couldn't even barricade the doors now that he'd destroyed them.

 _Starscream,_ he sent, reaching along the scorching path of agony that was his bond. _If you're here, help me to find you._

Within his spark, a beloved voice answered.

* * *

"Skyfire!"

Starscream grasped the thread of contact, clutching on to it like the lifeline that it was. A single memory hovered on the brink of the vortex, diamond-bright. He reached for it instinctively, losing a little more of his grip on the edges of the portal. In a moment, that wouldn't matter anyway. 

What did matter was this. The one memory he would not surrender to the void. It was delicate as a moth, so fragile that he feared it might powder in his grasp, but he held on grimly, refusing to let go. The memory unfurled, and Starscream found himself on a snowy plain beneath a sky filled with flickering auroras. There, a blue gaze held his as a gentle voice asked him if he was happy.

Starscream hadn't lied. He'd been happier in that moment than he could remember being in a very, _very_ long time. He'd found Skyfire. They were together again at last, and they were going to be unstoppable.

"I need you," he whispered. "Your strength—"

A familiar warmth descended, driving out the Arctic cold. A large hand enfolded Starscream's, fingers locking tight. 

_I'm here._

Renewed strength flowed into Starscream's limbs. His grip firmed on the edges of the portal, and he found he could now halt the inexorable slide toward the abyss. Skyfire was holding him back from the edge. Starscream huffed a ventilation of relief. If he could just hold on a little longer— 

A sharp pain pierced his awareness, drawing his gaze down to where a spot of brightness, the color of a dying ember, had appeared at the center of his chest. It brightened, gaining strength, and Starscream lurched forward, aft scraping the floor, as a ferocious tug within his chest dragged him back toward the vortex.

He lost his grip on the edges of the portal. One of his feet shot past the brink, dangling in space, as he scrabbled to regain his hold. He swore, bucking and twisting against the implacable momentum—and something within him broke. It felt like a tether snapping; a kite-string breaking in a windstorm. 

Starscream reeled, momentarily weightless, and everything around him slowed. The river of departing memories halted their exodus and hung suspended in the air around him. He stared at them in shock, wanting to grab them back to himself, but that was when he noticed the glow at the center of his chest growing brighter. It blazed like a tiny sunrise, until suddenly—impossibly—his spark popped free.

* * *

_Starscream!_

Skyfire's hands grasped empty air as footsteps hurried down the steps toward him. He was distantly aware of bat-winged silhouettes and guns pointing in his direction, but the greater part of his attention was centered on the odd, weightless feeling within his chest. It felt as if his spark had broken loose from its chamber and was floating free.

 _Starscream?_ He reached through the bond, trying to understand what was happening, but—

"Prepare to die, Autobot."

Skyfire refocused his gaze. The mech who'd spoken was the tall one, the one with the gaunt features, and his gun was pointing directly at Skyfire's spark.

* * *

For an instant within an instant, Starscream stared into the depths of his own spark. It shouldn't have been possible for it to exist outside his body, yet there it was, hovering just in front of him. He could see it spinning on its axis, its ruby-bright corona throwing back flashes of scarlet defiance. 

Instinctively, he grabbed for it. The spark slipped through his fingers—or, more accurately, his fingers slipped through it—and it drifted to the brink of the portal. It hung there, momentarily suspended against the dream-landscape beyond, and then serenely drifted through.

Starscream shot an arm through the portal, clawing after it, but he was already too late. The spark shimmered, growing transparent, and then… vanished. It seemed to melt away, merging with the world beyond the gate like a single photon being assimilated by the vastness of a star.

* * *

Skyfire was trapped. The lift wasn't going anywhere, and there was no way he could fight all six mechs at once. He reached inward, searching for the shadowy presence at the far end of his bond, but where Starscream's vivid presence had been, there was now only a shimmering brightness. Something that resembled Starscream, yet felt strangely… empty. Empty like space, or like the stage of a holoplay before the curtains rose, or a datapad wiped clean and awaiting fresh input.

_Starscream—_

* * *

"Wait!" Starscream shouted. "Come back!"

He was leaning through the portal as far as he dared, still mindful of the danger of falling through. The terrible suction was gone, but that didn't mean it couldn't return at any moment. There was no way he was joining his spark on the other side of this… whatever it was.

"You can't leave!" he yelled. "You're _mine!_ I haven't granted you permission to—"

He got no further, because that was when the substance of his memories began to flow again—only this time, in reverse. They came rushing back through the portal and slammed into him with the force of a tidal wave, throwing him backward.

He landed on his aft, hard—and the portal snapped shut.

* * *

Something smashed into Skyfire, striking him in the chest so hard that he sailed backward and crashed against the back wall of the lift. At first he thought he'd been shot, but then he noticed that he wasn't bleeding, and that the Decepticons were staring at him with frozen expressions.

He couldn't move. His body was pinned against the wall as pressed there by some unseen force, and he knew he was about to die. Already the Decepticons were recovering from their shock, raising their weapons to blast him into oblivion.

Dark spots swelled across his vision as he reached inward, wanting to make contact one last time. If these were his last moments, he wanted to spend them immersed in Starscream's presence.

A shout from above drew his attention upward. He focused his gaze with difficulty, and saw the sky coming alight with… auroras? No. With laserfire. And his would-be attackers were turning to face whatever was coming at them from above.

Skyfire thought he glimpsed a small, disc-shaped craft. Cosmos? It had to be. And he wasn't alone. Skylynx was alongside him, and so were the Aerialbots. His legs gave way beneath him, and he began to slide down the wall. He shuttered his optics, reaching desperately.

_Please._

The darkness became a night sky, veiled by flickering curtains of light, and his hand found that of another. Fingers slid between his own, locking tight as he tumbled into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, well. It's been a crazy week, and it was a _trip_ getting this chapter ready to post in the midst of the US Election fallout, but! Here it is. :-) Thanks to everyone who's been leaving comments and replying to comment threads. We've got such a wonderful discussion going now, and it's so rewarding to hear all your thoughts. I'm once again very curious to hear what you think of _this_ chapter, and also, whether anyone saw this particular development coming. :-)


	15. Eternity's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's what it means when people say 'til all are one," Skywarp said. "Turns out, that really _is_ what happens. It's like… you're in one giant spark-merge with everyone who's ever lived. Well," he amended. "Everyone who's ever _died."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Dark Star of Chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDecepticon/) for last-minute beta support getting this chapter launched. If you're looking for more ghostly reading, I highly recommend checking out Dark's excellent story, [_I'll Be There_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320239/), which is also receiving an update today.

"Um, Thunder?" Skywarp's tone was uncertain. "Was that… _supposed_ to happen?"

"To be honest…" Thundercracker hesitated. "I'm not entirely sure what _did_ happen."

"Pretty sure I saw his spark pop out of his chest just now. You saw that too, right?"

"Yep, that's what I saw," Thundercracker confirmed, and Starscream was distantly aware of him dropping to one knee beside him and settling a hand on one of his intakes. "You okay, 'Scream?"

Starscream opened his mouth to reply, but no sound emerged. He was staring straight ahead at the spot where the portal had been. Now there was only the tomb-marker, topped by a pair of eerily disembodied legs and a disk-shaped censer, which was still emitting a thin plume of resinous smoke.

"I—" Starscream finally managed. "That _thing!_ It…" He trailed off, his mind helplessly replaying the image of his spark—his own spark!—emerging from his body like a butterfly shedding its chrysalis and soaring through the portal without him. Had that _actually_ happened? His hand strayed to his chest, and found that it was cold.

Skywarp moved to Starscream's other side. "His spark kinda… uh, crossed over without _him._ Right?"

Thundercracker shifted, as if he was uncomfortable. "I think so."

"So… what now?" Skywarp asked in a small voice. "I mean, how do we—"

Starscream exploded to his feet. "That _thing!"_ he snarled, pointing a rifle at where the doorway had been. "It took my spark! How do I get it back?"

His Trinemates exchanged glances. "That 'thing' is the Allspark," Thundercracker said in a low voice. "I'm not sure you can really argue with it."

"Nonsense!" Starscream wrapped his arms around himself. A strut-deep cold had settled in where his spark had once been, and he discovered that he couldn't stop shaking. "The Allspark is a myth!"

"Beg to differ," Thundercracker replied.

"Yeah," Skywarp agreed. "I mean, you were literally just lookin' at it."

"That doesn't make it the Allspark!" 

"Fine, call it whatever you want," Thundercracker retorted. "Either way, it's got your spark."

"Yes, and I want it back! How do I do that?"

Starscream's question prompted another exchange of glances from his Trinemates. "Uh…" Thundercracker shrugged. "Sorry, we don't—"

"You should not have done that," a new voice interrupted. Starscream, Skywarp and Thundercracker all turned to find Dirge and Scavenger huddled on the floor behind them. 

"I had to!" Scavenger replied. He was gripping Dirge's shoulders with both hands. "He was going to kill you!"

Dirge shook his head. "It was the strain of holding open the gate that was taxing me. Not anything he was doing. I am not sure he was even aware of our presence. He seemed…" Dirge pushed himself up from his half-sprawled position and sat on his heel-thrusters. "I am not certain what happened, Scavenger. Something crossed over, but I am not sure what it was."

"Something crossed over that _wasn't_ Starscream?" Scavenger glanced around at the forest of statues. "Do you mean some other spirit?"

"I do not believe so." Dirge struggled to his feet with Scavenger's help, his gaze fixed on the spot where the vortex had been. "I believe there has been a split."

"A _what?"_ Starscream demanded, and realized that he and Scavenger had spoken in unison. "What do you mean, a split?"

"It is hard to be absolutely certain," Dirge said. "It is something I have experienced just one other time, but I think a part of Starscream has crossed over, while another part has not."

"That can happen?" Scavenger sounded alarmed. "Like… his spirit got ripped in half, or something?"

"Only in a sense," Dirge answered. "I fear the term 'spirit' is slightly misleading. It is used as a convenience to describe that part of an individual which is not his body, but in fact, the thing we call the spirit has two parts: the spark, and the ak'ba."

"The _what?"_ Starscream demanded.

"The ak'ba?" Scavenger frowned. "I've never heard of that."

Starscream threw his hands up. "Because it's nonsense!"

"Most have not." Dirge's reply was firmly directed toward Scavenger, though Starscream got the sense that it was intended for him as well. "The spark is the part of us which is eternal, and connected to the All. The ak'ba is what might be called the personality. It is what enables us to perceive ourselves as separate individuals, and is the receptacle of the memories and emotional attachments we form during life."

Memories? Starscream thought of the kaleidoscopic river of emotions and life-experience he'd seen flowing past him into the vortex. Was that what Dirge was describing—albeit in more mystical terms than Starscream would have chosen?

"The ak'ba is normally purified by crossing the flame-barrier," Dirge went on. "The decedent does not necessarily forget who he was in life, but he becomes detached from his former identity and is thus able to return to the Allspark, taking with him the wisdom of experience he has gained."

 _"Purification?"_ Starscream flared, striding toward him. "That's a very sanitized term for having your entire life stripped away!"

"I have no idea what any of that means," Scavenger was saying, "But I take it that a split isn't a good thing."

Dirge inclined his head. "It is highly… unusual."

"Unusual, you say?" Starscream snarled, leaning into the Crypt Master's face. "Oh, well! Knowing it's unusual is _very_ helpful! My question is, how do I undo it?"

"You don't," said a quiet voice from behind. Starscream spun around, and was just in time to see Graywing appear out of nowhere, as if stepping from an unseen doorway. "Your choices are very simple, Starscream. Either return to the Allspark, or… die."

"Die?" Starscream shot a glance between Graywing and his Trinemates. "Wait. I thought I was _already_ dead! Isn't that what you've all kept telling me?"

"Only in the physical sense," Graywing answered serenely. "While it is true that your body has been reduced to ashes, your memories—or what you might call your identity—lives on. But only for a time. Without your spark to animate it, the 'you' that I am speaking to will eventually fade."

"So what am I supposed to do about it?" Even as he asked the question, it occurred Starscream that he was starting to accept this preposterous situation as if it was real. Perhaps it was the cold vacancy in his chest; it made everything else seem undeniable.

Graywing shuttered his optics. For a moment, Starscream thought he wasn't going to answer. But then, suddenly, the vortex bloomed into existence just behind Graywing, the shimmering portal framing his stooped figure.

"Whoa," Thundercracker murmured. "How'd you do that?"

Graywing glanced at him and gave a subtle shake of his head, as if to say, 'not now.' He turned to Starscream. "If you wish to be reunited with your spark, you have only to step through the doorway."

Starscream forced himself to look at it. The terrifying pull was gone, but he could feel it… calling to him. Beckoning him to the edge with a song he almost recognized. He took a few steps closer, trying to get a better look without any danger of actually falling through.

It was an ocean of galaxies. He watched as they swirled around and through each other, webs of light blending in a slow, majestic dance. There was something alive within that light. Something that seemed to gaze back at him, _into_ him, with a wordless, tender regard. A great Mind made up of an infinite number of smaller ones, all of them thinking and speaking at once.

"Who… who are they?"

"Everyone," Graywing replied. "Quite literally, everyone who's ever crossed over."

"That's what it means when people say 'til all are one," Skywarp said. "Turns out, that really _is_ what happens. It's like… you're in one giant spark-merge with everyone who's ever lived. Well," he amended. "Everyone who's ever _died."_

"That sounds… _revolting."_

Starscream had always thought so, even when he hadn't believed in the Allspark. Which he still mostly didn't, despite current circumstances. Yet as he stood listening, he realized that the many voices were weaving a melody. One he _did_ recognize, because it was the song Skyfire had sung to him on the night of their first joining. The light _knew,_ somehow. It knew _him._

Something in him failed. He trembled, falling back a step. "Do I…" he paused with a shudder. "Do I _have_ to?"

"It is the only way," Graywing informed him gravely.

Skywarp shrugged. "It's not so bad. For one thing, no one ever shoots at you."

"And it's not like we've stopped being _us,"_ Thundercracker added. "I'm still me, you're still you, 'Warp here's still a big moron—"

"Hey!"

"Kidding." Thundercracker reached to massage the cables at the back of Skywarp's neck. "Love ya, big moron."

Skywarp glowered, though he seemed mollified by his partner's words. "Go on, 'Scream, see for yourself," he invited, leaning into Thundercracker's touch. "It doesn't bite, I promise."

Starscream took a step closer, peering into the serene maelstrom. "If I do this," he said, "will I be able to find my spark?" From this vantage point, it seemed an impossible task. Like trying to find one particular grain of sand in an infinitely vast desert.

"Of course," Graywing assured him. "Your spark is you. You cannot lose it."

"And then…" Starscream glanced between all three of them, weighing their reactions, "I can come back out again. Right?"

"Uh…" Thundercracker glanced at Skywarp, then at Graywing. "Can he?"

Graywing shook his head. "I fear not, Starscream. Once you cross over, you're there."

"With us," Skywarp put in quickly. "We'll all be together again. Trine forever."

"So… in other words, I'll be _dead."_

"You're dead _now!"_ Thundercracker exploded. "It's over, Starscream. Your life is done, and now you get to move _on."_

"I don't _want_ to move on." And then, surprising himself, Starscream added, "I'm not ready." The truth of those words struck him like a hammer-blow. He wasn't.

Skywarp frowned. "Why not? I mean… you did _everything._ You were second-in-command of the Decepticons, for Primus' sake!"

"And you helped us re-take Cybertron," Thundercracker added. "You even overthrew Megatron and became our leader."

"For all of five seconds," Skywarp interjected cheerfully. "But still! What else _is_ there?"

What else.

Starscream glanced at the portal, as if expecting that shifting maze of light to hold the answer.

"Revenge, probably," Skywarp speculated. "He probably wants to kick Galvatron's aft."

Revenge, Starscream thought. Yes, that sounded right. He wanted to make this… Galvatron… pay for what he'd done. It sounded like something he'd want. But… there was more. 

It was in the song. That melodic thread looping back through eons of time, to a pair of arms that enfolded him. To large, warm hands that cradled his. To a voice that whispered his name as if it meant something holy. Starscream crossed his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the dead, empty spot at its center. "I'm staying," he announced.

Skywarp gave him a stricken look. "You're… what? Wait! I didn't mean—"

"You heard me." Starscream took a few steps away from the doorway to emphasize his point. 

"But…" Thundercracker's optic ridges lowered. "What about your spark?"

"Slag my spark! Let the stupid thing wallow around in… _there."_ Starscream hooked a thumb toward the portal, mostly so he wouldn't have to look at it. _"I_ have more important things to attend to!"

"Yeah, but you can't—" Thundercracker broke off, glancing at Graywing. "He can't. Can he?"

Graywing sighed. "He can do as he likes, but only for a time. The ak'ba which the Crypt Master was referring to is merely a vehicle. Without the spark to energize it, it will deteriorate and, eventually, cease to exist."

Skywarp's mouth fell open. "No!" He sounded horrified. "That… that _can't_ be right."

"I'm afraid it is." Graywing glanced at Starscream. "You can't exist without your spark. Simply put, it is that which makes you alive."

"Oh, but you keep saying I'm _not_ alive," Starscream pointed out. "I seem to be existing just fine without my spark." 

"For now," Graywing allowed. "But the consciousness you are experiencing now will fade, like a dying echo. When it finally disappears, it will be as if you never were."

"You're lying."

Graywing offered him a flat stare. "Am I? When have I ever told you something that wasn't true?"

"Oh, let me see," Starscream said, counting on his fingers. "There was the bit about the Ancient Primes creating the Seekers; the doctrine that the Matrix is infallible; the existence of Primus… shall I go on?"

"Starscream!" Skywarp took a step toward him, hands spread. "Please. You've got to stop making such a big deal about this. People die; it happens."

"Not to _me!"_

Thundercracker groaned. "For Primus' sake, Starscream! I don't know why I thought the _dead_ you would be less of a pain in the afterburner."

"Shut up! I'm not—"

"Not dead?" Thundercracker smirked. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."

"Yes, you are." Skywarp teleported across the remaining distance and grasped Starscream's arm. "C'mon, 'Scream." His tone was soft but urgent. "Come home with us. We're Trine, Starscream; we need you."

Starscream wrenched his arm free. _"Need?_ I sent you to your deaths, you dimwit! Or have you forgotten?"

Skywarp looked crushed. "Starscream…" 

Starscream glanced away, unable to meet his gaze, and a heavy silence fell.

Graywing cleared his vocalizer. "Skywarp and Thundercracker, I'm afraid our time here is at an end. He's made his choice; we must now leave him to it."

"No!" Skywarp cried. "No, please—"

"'Warp." Thundercracker caught Skywarp's arm. His gaze, which had locked onto Starscream's, spoke of words barely held in check. Starscream suddenly ached to hear them, knowing they were what he deserved, but Thundercracker said nothing. With a final shake of his head, Thundercracker took a step toward the portal, drawing Skywarp along with him. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

Starscream sneered. "Don't hold your vents, _Trinemate."_

Thundercracker's jaw clenched. "C'mon, babe," he murmured to Skywarp. "There's nothing we can do. Never was. Let's go."

Skywarp hesitated, but finally let Thundercracker lead him toward the portal. Thundercracker was the first to step through. He hovered just beyond the doorway, his fingers now twined with Skywarp's. Skywarp lingered a moment, his expression still torn. Graywing touched his shoulder, murmuring something Starscream couldn't hear, and finally, with just a nod in Starscream's direction, Skywarp stepped through.

Starscream watched as they transformed. He was only mildly surprised to notice that they had regained their tri-jet modes, rather than the Earth disguises Teletraan One had created for them. They took off, soaring against the ancient stars, together and free. Starscream followed them with his gaze, fighting a treacherous urge to dive after them. 

But they wouldn't want him. Not after what he'd done. And besides—

"Still fixated on your revenge?" Graywing prodded, watching him expectantly.

Starscream glared. "You know nothing about me, Graywing. Nothing."

"Very well." Graywing bowed his head. "Farewell, Starscream. I would say it's been a pleasure, but…" he let the sentence hang as he stepped through the portal, which irised shut behind him.

Darkness fell, along with a stony, impenetrable silence. When Starscream glanced around, he wasn't at all surprised to find Dirge and Scavenger gone too. His only remaining company was the statues, which gazed down upon him with solemn, empty stares.

He was in the Crypt, alone.

** _To Be Continued…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. The final chapter, but definitely not the end of the story. Endings, as they say, are merely new beginnings, and Starscream's afterlife adventures have only just begun. I plan to begin posting the next instalment of the [_Love After Death_](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863013) series sometime in 2021. Do check back here (or better yet, subscribe for updates!) as I'll eventually be adding a bonus chapter to this story as a sneak preview for the next. In the meantime, thanks so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the journey so far.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying this little brush with death. This story has been in the works for years, and it's such a pleasure to finally share it. I'd love to hear what you think, so I hope you'll take a moment to let me know. Any and all comments are welcome, including: questions, critiques, theories, headcanons and replies to other people's comments (so long as you're nice to each other and stay reasonably on-topic), so let's get a discussion going! Or, if you prefer to comment privately, you're welcome to message me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/grayseeker) or email me at: grayseekerwrites (at) gmail (dot) com. Hope to hear from you!
> 
> BTW, I've posted a sneak peek into the future of this series for those who are curious about how everything turns out. Includes spoilers, of course, so proceed accordingly. You can find that story [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331841). Enjoy!


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